


nunquam titillandus

by magnetaire



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Hogwarts AU, Jon Snow is a Stark, M/M, Multi, Stark-centered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 21:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18949117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetaire/pseuds/magnetaire
Summary: In which Bran Stark goes to Hogwarts and discovers that his older brothers are both falling for two very different girls and that his sisters aren't so different after all. And, while at it, becomes friends with the quirkiest pair of twins in the castle.





	1. Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters

There was a broad smile on Bran Stark’s face the first time that he stepped onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters as a Hogwarts student.

He had spent the last seven years seeing his older siblings off to school, his mother teary-eyed and his father branding the proudest of smiles every single year. Robb and Jon had been the first ones to go, and they had soon been followed by Sansa and Arya, who had started school the previous year. But he had been waiting for his turn to come ever since his brothers had come back from school after their first year — Bran, unlike Arya, didn’t marvel at their stories about secret passageways and Quidditch matches, but rather at the way they so very fondly described their classes and the amount of magic that they had learned over the course of the year. All that Bran wanted was to learn to control the magic that itched at the tips of his fingers and the spells that had fluttered over his head ever since he was a little boy — he wanted to _know_ , and that was why he had ushered his parents and older siblings to their chimney as soon as he had gotten his Hogwarts letter, so that they could buy him his First Year textbooks and the middle-sized, unicorn hair wand that he would now keep in his pocket for the rest of his life.

“Lemme give you a hand with that, buddy.”

Bran looked up and did a half-smile when he recognized Robb’s reddish curls and the Head Boy badge that now gleamed on the flap of his Gryffindor cloak. Bran had always admired his older brother — he was an excellent student and one of the most popular boys in his year, and everyone said he would make a formidable Auror one day. But what Bran admired the most was that he would always shrug it off with a smile — he never boasted about his accomplishments, and was still the bright-eyed boy that his younger siblings had always known.

“Thanks.” Bran did a shy smile as his brother placed his trunk inside the luggage wagon, which broadened when he ruffled his hair after hopping back onto the Platform.

“I can’t believe you’re coming to Hogwarts already.” There was a proud smile on Robb’s lips, which made Bran’s chest swell with pride. “You’re so big, Bran. You’re gonna do great.”

“Thanks,” he repeated. His eyes then flashed towards Robb’s Head Boy badge. “Aren’t you supposed to go make sure everything’s all right?”

Robb chuckled. “That’s very right. I’m just gonna go say goodbye to Mum and Dad, and then I’ll be off to see who’s been appointed Head Girl. But hey — do let me know if you feel a little lost at first, all right? We’re all here for you, little one.”

Bran nodded. “I know. Thanks, Robb.”

His older brother winked an eye at him before walking up to their parents again. Bran observed him as he hugged them goodbye and listened to one of their father’s sibylline advices, and smiled when Theon and Jon patted his back, inviting him inside the train. Sansa had already found her friends and laughed merrily with them as they looked for an empty compartment, whereas Arya was still chatting with her friend Meera Reed on the platform. He looked around, suddenly feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the amount of people that surrounded him, and exhaled a brief sigh when a firm hand that he had learned to recognize over the course of the years clasped his shoulder.

“You nervous, Bran?” Ned Stark asked, a gentle smile on his face. When his son shook his head, he kneeled and looked at him in the eye. “It’s okay to be nervous, my boy. You’re going away for the first time. But your siblings will be there for you, and I’m sure you’re going to love Hogwarts. Jolly, if only I could go back and relive it all myself.”

Bran’s lips pursed ever so lightly. “Did you have a good time, Dad?”

“I most certainly did,” Ned nodded, a melancholic smile on his face. “I got to be with Robert and Jon every single day, and I met your mother there when we were both in our Sixth Year. She was a Ravenclaw, you know, so we never really got to know each other until we were paired up as Potions partners.”

“Potions sounds interesting enough,” Bran commented, a more relaxed smile on his face. “I’ve heard Professor Baelish can be a little demanding at times, but I really can’t wait to see how it all works.”

Ned did a half-smile and nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He pressed a soft kiss to his son’s forehead and then bumped his nose against his like he used to do when his children were younger. “You’ll write whenever you can, won’t you?” When Bran nodded, he stood up again and ruffled his hair not unlike Robb had done only a few minutes ago. “All right then. You’re good to go, I think.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

There was a hopeful smile on Bran’s lips when his mother hugged him goodbye and kissed his cheeks, urging him to write to them and Rickon as soon as he got to the castle — which, Ned remarked, was only slightly unrealistic, as the eleven-year-old would probably get too tangled up in adjusting to his new life at school for at least the first couple of weeks. Rickon hugged him tightly and mumbled something about hating being left alone with Ma and Da, and Bran pressed a kiss to his hair and promised him to write and send him plenty of candy as soon as he could, not unlike his older siblings had done with him when he was younger. He then picked up his bag and waved his parents and his little brother goodbye one last time before turning towards the train, a somewhat doubtful expression in his eyes.

“You wanna come with us, Bran?”

His sister Arya was looking at him from one of the small, rectangled windows, and offered him her hand as the boy hopped onto the train and got introduced to her two friends, Meera and Jojen Reed, who were both Ravenclaws and apparently became Arya's best friends at school after the three of them flagrantly failed at their first Flying lesson and were held back by Professor Tarth, who insisted on them taking extra classes for an entire semester. The three of them were still fairly awful at flying, but a firm friendship had blossomed from all the hours spent exasperating the otherwise joyful Professor Tarth with their poor Quidditch skills.

"So you're Arya's little brother?" asked Jojen, an amused smile on the boy's lips. He was a lot taller than him, with big blue eyes that somehow reminded him of his mother's, and bore a somewhat snarky expression as he spoke, but Bran immediately decided that he liked him. "Interesting. She's always said you're going to be a Ravenclaw, too."

"Yes, quite interesting." Meera agreed. Her hair was just as curly as Jojen's, but hers was pitch black — not unlike Jon's, Bran thought. Her expression was calmer than Jojen's, and Bran soon decided that he liked her too. "And we'll be sure to show you around if you're sorted into our House." The girl offered him a kind smile before eyeing Arya. "Anyway, we'd better get back to the compartment — Shireen isn't going to be able to prevent some Fifth Year bully from kicking her out if we're not there to help her, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, I think we should get going," Arya agreed. She patted her brother's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Wanna come with, Bran?"

"We'll buy some candy later, you can have some if you like." Meera's tone was bright, which made Bran feel a lot less of an intruder if he decided to join them.

"Sure," he nodded quietly, unsure of who this Shireen person was, but certainly feeling relieved at the idea of not having to wander the train on his own like most First Years did. "I'll go with you."

His sister offered him a knowing smile — a sort of  _been-there-done-that_ one — and picked up her bag before mumbling something about how she hoped Professor Baelish was a little less up his own arse that year. Jojen and Meera laughed, and Bran did an awkward smile when he realized that the older children probably shared a lot of internal jokes that he still wasn't aware of — and that was why he casted one last nervous glance towards his family back at the Platform, pressing his hands against the straps of his bags as he wondered whether going to school was such a great idea after all. And, when he noticed that the same proud smile that had been on his face when the rest of his children had left for school could be seen on his father's face, he grinned back and finally decided that he would follow his sister and his friends back to their compartment, feeling the same itch at the tips of his fingers that he had felt when he first received his Hogwarts letter.

Looking back at that first journey aboard the Hogwarts Express, Bran Stark would remember tons of chit-chatting with the Reeds and Arya, a few of Shireen's shy remarks, and plenty of candy; but above anything else, he would remember the way his parents' had smiled at him just before the train left King's Cross, knowing for once how his siblings had felt as they embarked on the adventure of a lifetime.

•••

“So, who’s the lucky chick you’re getting to shag for this entire year?”

“You can be a real _prick_ sometimes. You know that, right? It's important to me that you know that, Theon.”

“Whatever. I still think you're gonna end up shagging her sooner or later — Head Boys and Head Girls always end up together, with all that living together business and whatnot.”

Robb elbowed his friend hard in the ribs, shaking his head with an amused smile when the boy sitting next to him winced and feigned a hurt expression. He and Theon had been best friends ever since they had first met on the Hogwarts Express over six years ago, but he still couldn’t believe how his entire world seemed to revolve around the idea of finally getting to have sex with one of their schoolmates.

“Listen,” Robb said. “I just really want to make this work, so — let’s just act rational and nice around whoever that girl is, all right? I want to make a good impression. Don't wanna be seen as some prick who's just been selected by Headmaster Targaryen out of sheer luck.”

“Yeah, I _bet_ ,” Theon replied, an amused smile on his face. “Anyway, shouldn’t she be here already?”

“I s’pose she might be running a little — ”

Robb’s last words died in his throat when a dark-skinned, black haired girl entered the compartment, her Ravenclaw uniform impeccable and the Head Girl badge more than visible on her blouse. He recognized her immediately, of course — Talisa Maegyr, her Ancient Runes classmate for the past four years. _Of course_ it had to be her — Robb knew that she was the smartest girl in their Year, and that every single teacher at school deemed her one of the brightest assets to their classes. He had spent the past six years marveling at how she would always know the answer to nearly every single question that their teachers posed at class, and how she would always bite back at those students who tried to belittle her because of her blood status — he knew Talisa was a Muggle-born witch, and that her parents had immigrated to Britain from a Latin American country when she was really young. And of course, he had also noticed how impossibly attractive she had become over the course of the years — he had first met her as a small, broad-eyed eleven-year-old, but she was now on the verge of becoming a fully-grown woman whose attitude and mannerisms reminded Robb of a much older person. He had always entertained the thought of liking her, tempted to walk up to her after one of the classed that they had shared over the course of the years, but the only time that they had shared a face-to-face conversation was right before leaving school the previous year, when their Ancient Runes professor had suggested that his two best students should go tell the Second Years about their experience as Ancient Runes students, so that they would hopefully decide to take it the following year as one of their electives. They had spent a couple of days roaming the castle during their free periods, telling the twelve-year-olds all about ancient languages and the importance of translation and Runic literature, and he had felt awed by the way she spoke so passionately of all the books that she had read over the course of the year, and the way understanding Ancient Runic helped her achieve a more holistic vision of life, which was something that Robb had never quite considered before. She told him she wanted to be a Healer at St. Mungo’s, and that she wanted to make a difference, and that she loved learning and helping others more than anything else, and that she sometimes missed her Muggle school because wizards, in her opinion, lacked the most basic notions of citizenship and camaraderie, which had been the fundamenting values of the school that she had attended to until she found out she was a witch when she tore her cousin's _quinceañera_ dress into pieces during a fit of rage without touching it.

Needless to say, Robb had decided that he _really_ liked her after that.

“Robb.” A gentle smile spread across Talisa’s lips when she recognized him. “I _knew_ it would be you. My friend Ari said it’d be that Targaryen boy — but I honestly hoped it would be you.”

And just like that, she had dismantled every single coherent phrase that might have sprouted out of his mouth. Robb had always been an excellent speaker, and the idea of not knowing what to say was completely new to him.

“I . . . I’m glad it’s you, too.” He offered her a small smile. When Theon whistled behind him, he discreetly stomped on his friend’s foot and coughed a little.

Talisa just laughed, which only made Robb's cheeks turn a light red, matching the stubble that was beginning to grow across his face.

“Well, I think we should get going," the girl said finally, an amused look in her big brown eyes. "We need to meet up with the Prefects and decide how we’re going to split up the patrolling shifts this year. And we should go check on the First Years after that, too — find them a compartment if they're still wandering around the train.”

“Uh, sure,” Robb nodded, still a little dumbfounded. He glanced towards Jon, who just shrugged and nodded towards the girl encouragingly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s get going.” 

Jon and Theon chuckled behind him, but he simply decided to ignore it for the time being. He went for the door and, before he could open it for her, the girl had already done the same thing, winking an eye at him in a friendly manner.

His eyes met hers, and there was something like a flutter at the bottom of his stomach. And that was when Robb Stark realized that his last year at Hogwarts was ought to be a very, very interesting one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! so i really wanted to give this idea a shot because i haven't written got-related fanfiction in like ages but i LOVE MY STARK CHILDREN SO MUCH. anyway this will mostly be stark-centered tbh everyone will sorta be there but it's mostly about them. anyway! let's see where this goes - see you all soon, hopefully!


	2. The Welcoming Feast

There was something about Hogwarts that made Jon Stark feel at ease as soon as he got back to school after the holidays. He found himself wondering what the ghosts might be up to, and whether the house elves would be willing to give him a doughnut or two after the Welcoming Feast if he told them a story about his father's house up north or how he and Robb spent more than a day or two roaming around Muggle London as soon as they got their Apparating license the previous summer. He had gotten to know the school like very few of his fellow students did, simply because he felt like he almost shared a _connection_ with its stoned walls and its excruciatingly high towers. Because Hogwarts was, in fact, the only place where Jon felt like he belonged — the only place where he didn't feel judged by his adoptive mother's half-glares whenever he did something that reminded her of his estranged father, or by the way his biological mother's ghost seemed to loom around him wherever he went.

Granted, he liked seeing his younger siblings and getting to know how his father’s job at the Ministry was going, but Winterfell Manor — the house in the middle of the Highlands that had belonged to the Most Ancient House of Stark since the fifteenth century — had never really felt like home to him. Perhaps because of how the room that he shared with Robb felt more like his brother's than his, even when Robb insisted on him hanging up his own posters and photos too, or because of the way his father would avert his eyes and stare into his tea cup whenever he asked him about his biological parents, and then mumbled something about him being too young to understand. He knew he had been born out of wedlock, and that his mother — Ned Stark's only sister, Lyanna — had died giving birth to him, but that was about it. He didn't even think his younger siblings were aware that he wasn't their blood brother — Robb had been with him when their father first told Jon about his biological mother's untimely death, but the rest of them seemed to assume that the fact that Robb was two and a half months older than his brother was a perfectly ordinary thing. Jon had been loved and treated like Ned Stark's rightful son all through his childhood, and yet there was still something about the way in which Catelyn Stark would discreetly kiss the rest of her children's cheeks in an only slightly warmer manner before they left for school that made him feel like a burden that the Starks had never been supposed to bear with. That was why Jon had felt a peaceful itch at the bottom of his stomach the first time that he had seen the silhouette of the Hogwarts castle lying in front of him — because he finally got to exhale, and because the glimmering lights that pored through its windows made him feel as though wandering its corridors and getting lost in its staircases would be the easiest thing that he had ever done.

And that was also why his lips twitched into an uncomfortable gesture as he took a seat at the Gryffindor table, realizing that his last Welcoming Feast was about to begin.

"Can't believe it's been seven years already," Theon commented, sitting across from him at the table. "Remember how _sweaty_ that poor Tarly kid looked during our Sorting Ceremony? I think his younger brother got sorted into Gryffindor a couple of years ago, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, he tried out for the Quidditch team last year," Robb nodded, then jerked his thumb at the redhead that had just taken a seat next to Theon. "But we only needed one replacement, and _she_ was the one who got in."

"Well, I'm not gonna tiptoe around it — you lot needed me in that team, Stark."

Jon did a half-smile when he saw the expression on the girl's face. He and Ygritte had known each other ever since they first got to school — they had never been _friends_ , mind you, because she usually hung out with Arianne Martell and that Ravenclaw girl that made Robb look like a lovesick puppy whenever she was around, but they still struck up a conversation over breakfast every now and then, which had made him come to the conclusion that he liked her very much over the course of the years. Ygritte was loud, had a bit of a foul mouth and could be exasperatingly blunt, but Jon still enjoyed the friendly banter that surrounded their brief conversations in the Great Hall and a few of their group study sessions back in the Common Room, with Ygritte sticking her tongue out and teasing him about how terribly poor his Transfiguration skills were while Robb and Theon were too wrapped up in deciphering their own scrolls of parchment because the blotches of ink that Theon had dropped on them made it impossible for them to understand their own notes.

"So, how've the past couple of months treated you, Jon?" The girl asked, her bright red eyebrows disappearing behind her fringe as she eyed him with an amused expression. Ygritte always seemed to know what was going on in his head even before he could voice his thoughts out loud, which both annoyed and delighted Jon to no end. "S'pose you two have been filling out the paperwork for your Auror internships, haven't ya?"

"I, uh, I don't think I want to be an Auror." Jon shrugged a little. His grades were good enough, and his brother had always told him it would be amazing if the two of them ended up working together at the Auror Office, but his Sixth Year at school had helped him realize that Robb's dream job was the exact opposite of the kind of career that he wanted to pursue. He still felt a little lost about it, and tried not to wince at the subtly hurt expression in his brother's eyes when he mentioned it, but he still added, in a firmer tone, "I think I want to be a Magizoologist. Go up north and explore."

"Oh. Exploring sounds nice enough." Ygritte's words were permeated in her usual easy-going tone, and there was a half-smile on her face, which somehow made Jon feel more at ease with his own decisions — as though the girl's approval made his career path a more valid one. "I don't know what I wanna do after school just yet. I just want to travel and see the world and learn all sorts of stuff before settling down and getting a boring job at the Ministry."

"That sounds nice, too," Jon nodded, albeit a bit cluelessly. The girl just laughed and shook her head, which made his brow furrow. "What?"

"It's just — remember what I told you the first time we were paired up for Potions class?" Ygritte asked, and then added, in a much higher tone, " _You know nothing, Jon Stark_."

Jon's cheeks turned a bright red, and he just shrugged a little. "You know, I think I _have_ learned a thing or two over these past few years — "

"Oh, just get a room, will you?" Theon chuckled. Ygritte laughed and smacked Theon’s arm, unaware of the way Jon’s cheeks had become even redder. The seventeen-year-old averted his eyes and pretended to fuss with his own red-and-gold tie, until his brother placed a knowing hand on his shoulder and offered him a smile.

“You can always come watch our Quidditch practice every Tuesday, you know. Perhaps she’ll even let you join her in the showers afterwards.”

“Bloody hell, Robb.”

Jon almost felt glad when the First Years entered the Great Hall, led by a solemn-looking Professor Cersei Lannister.

“That’s your lil’ brother, innit?” Ygritte whispered, motioning towards a very bright-eyed Bran. “D’you reckon he’ll be a Gryffindor?”

“Nah, he’s too smart for us.” Jon did a half-smile when Bran waved at them.

“My bet’s on Ravenclaw,” quipped Robb, an amused gesture on his face as the Sorting Ceremony began. “At least I hope he’s sorted there. Sansa will take good care of him if he gets scared or misses Mum and Dad — besides, I can hardly see him in Slytherin or Hufflepuff.”

Jon nodded distractedly at his brother’s words as he observed the Ceremony, his eyes now fixed on little Bran’s brown locks in the middle of the crowd. Their brother would be one of the last students to sit on the stool, as Professor Lannister always followed a strict alphabetical order while calling the First Years onto it. A few of the faces looked fairly familiar to him — Tommen Baratheon, Professor Lannister’s youngest son, had just been sorted into Hufflepuff, and little Lyanna Mormont, whose family lived near Winterfell Manor, had just taken a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table, a wide smile plastered on her face.

“Stark, Brandon!”

Robb elbowed his brother enthusiastically, and Jon noticed that Arya, who was sitting with a couple of boys from her year, was carefully following their younger brother’s awkward footsteps towards the Sorting Hat. Sansa’s attention has drifted back to the Ceremony, too — she had looked a little clueless at first, Jon thought, but her eyes had shifted to her little brother as soon as he took a seat on the stool, watching him just as attentively as the rest of them.

Jon couldn’t help but chuckle when the Sorting Hat blurted out the name of his little brother’s House as soon as it grazed the very top of the boy’s head.

“Ravenclaw!”

The blue-and-bronze table erupted into cheers, and even Robb whooped enthusiastically as Bran took a seat next to Arya’s friends Jojen and Meera, who welcomed him with gleeful claps and knowing looks in their eyes. The sight of his little brother greeting everyone at the table and even shaking a few hands made Jon smile — Bran had always been a bit of an introvert, and Catelyn herself had feared that he might struggle at school at first because of it. And yet, there he was — acting so effortlessly warm around everyone, and even waving at them before getting involved in a conversation with Meera and Jojen.

“He’s gonna love being a Ravenclaw, that one,” Robb said, a pleased smile on his face. “He’s always been so . . . _academically inclined_ , you know.”

“Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.” Jon chuckled. He then found himself placing a hand on Robb’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. “He’ll be fine. And we’ve got to make the most out of our last year at school, right?”

Robb grinned. “Right you are.”

The two of them shared that knowing look that had allowed them to communicate without speaking out loud ever since they were little, and for once Jon felt at peace with both of the worlds that he had grown up in.

•••

“Bran, hold up!”

The boy wheeled around, and Sansa smiled when she saw the excited look in her little brother’s eyes. He had already changed into his brand new Ravenclaw uniform, and his older friends were telling him all about the Ravenclaw common room and how he could charm his bed so as to make it soundproof in case one of his roommates turned out to be a bit of a snorer. Sansa’s mind briefly reeled back to her very first night at Hogwarts — Jon and Robb were already in their Third Year and she had spent most of the train journey with them, so the more pragmatic side of her had decided that she had annoyed them enough for that day and swiftly followed the rest of the Ravenclaw First Years instead of walking up to her brothers after the Feast. Her little brother, however, was nothing like her — in spite of having been sorted into her same House, she sometimes felt like he was a more knowledgeable version of their sister Arya, or perhaps even Jon. She still loved him dearly, though — he would always listen to her book recommendations, and the two of them shared a fairly special bond in spite of the age difference between them.

“Hi, Sansa!” The boy said cheerfully.

“Did you enjoy the Feast?” There was a smile on Sansa’s lips, and she lowered herself to meet her little brother’s eyes — standing at six feet tall at age fifteen could make her feel a little awkward at times, but she had learned to embrace her physical traits over the course of the years. “Listen — you know you can come up to my room if you need anything, right?” Bran giggled, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. “What?”

“It’s just that Jojen just told me that we boys aren’t allowed inside the girls’ rooms,” he said, a mischievous smile on his face. “He tried to go fetch Meera once and the doorknob sent him flying down the staircase when he tried to turn it.”

Now it was Sansa’s turn to giggle. “Well, yes, I had forgotten about that. But really — just let me know if you need anything, all right? Arya, Robb and Jon will be there for you too, obviously — but I know for a fact that it’s always good to have someone to rely on in your own House.”

Bran smiled brightly at his older sister. “All right, Sans. Thanks a ton.” The boy stood on his tiptoes and kissed her cheek before gesturing towards his new friends. “I’m gonna go now, all right? My friends wanted to show me around the castle before curfew.”

Sansa was a little taken aback by her brother’s words. It wasn’t like she expected him to hang around her like a little child — he had just turned eleven and had an entire castle to explore, and she reckoned that the last thing he wanted to do was staying put and listening to his older sister’s tips. But she still found herself a little lost for a moment — her roommates had already gone upstairs, and she didn’t know where to go or what to do, because their relationship had become a little strained over the previous year and she didn’t exactly have any _friends_ as of right then. She had hoped to hang out with her younger siblings every now and then — Arya had become surprisingly tolerant of her older sister’s interests ever since Sansa started telling her all about her Astronomy classes and the Muggle books that one of her classmates had lent her the previous year — and perhaps even Robb and Jon every now and then, but her brother was clearly proving her wrong for the time being.

“Oh. Sure, go have fun.” She mustered a gentle smile and ruffled Bran’s hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

“All right, Sans! Good night!”

Bran dashed back to his friends, leaving his sister alone and a little dumbfounded. The girl shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with the buttons of her blouse for a few seconds, unsure of what to do — she didn’t feel like going upstairs and facing her roommates just yet, but there was no one that she could hang out with outside the Ravenclaw common room as of right then.

That was when she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, which made let out a shrill shriek before elbowing her attacker hard on the ribs.

“Ow! Bloody hell, Sans!”

Sansa immediately recognized the boy’s voice.

“Theon!” She turned around, an apologetical look on her face. “I — you scared me!”

“That’s . . . that’s fair,” the Gryffindor admitted, making an effort not to wince in front of her. He ran a hand through his ribs and did a half-smile, trying to shrug the pain off — Sansa knew that he took great pride in not looking vulnerable in front of others, which felt sort of amusing to her. “Anyway — what’s up with you? What’re you doing here?”

“I just . . . I don’t know,” she shifted, looking only slightly uncomfortable — not because of him, obviously, but because the idea of admitting that she had no idea what to do or what to say about her social life as of lately. “I didn’t want to go up to the common room just yet.”

“Sounds reasonable enough,” he joked. “I was sort of just wandering around too, because Robb had a shift with that Talisa girl and Jon wanted to catch up with Sam before going to sleep.”

“I keep forgetting that Robb’s our new Head Boy,” she smiled, not without a certain sense of pride. She and Robb were very much alike, and she secretly hoped to follow his path one day. “And Talisa’s Head Girl. I don’t really know her, but I’ve heard she’s nice.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty much Robb’s type,” he chuckled. When the girl’s eyebrows rose, he just shrugged his shoulders and offered, “I feel like they’re gonna end up together at some point — seriously, he looked like _such_ a smitten kitten when he first found out that she had been appointed Head Girl. And they’re sharing a dorm! I mean, he’s never been much of a player — believes in love and all that rubbish, but I think something’s gonna come out of all those shifts and nights studying together.”

“Don’t you?” Sansa asked, tilting her head ever so lightly.

Theon’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t I what?”

“Believe in love.”

Theon paused for a moment, and finally shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ve never really given it much thought — my parents got married strictly because it was what they were supposed to do, and my sister has never really done dating. Neither have I, mind you, but — ”

“I’m not sure I believe in love, either,” said Sansa, interrupting him — which wasn’t like Sansa at all. “Not after Joffrey, at least.”

Theon’s lips twitched into an awkward gesture. Robb had probably told him all about her ex-boyfriend — they had been together all through her Fourth Year, but dating him had turned out to be one of the worst decisions of her life. He was manipulative, abusive, a tyrant even — he had practically bullied her into doing things that she hadn’t been exactly comfortable with, and by the time she decided to break up with him, he somehow managed to turn most of their common friends against her. She had only exchanged letters with her friend Podrick that summer — he was a kind-hearted, loyal boy, and he hadn’t believed Joffrey’s claims about her being a _slag_ , as the boy had bluntly put it. That was why she didn’t really get along with her roommates anymore, and that was also why she was now struggling with a lot of things at the same time, trying to bring herself together after being with him broke her into very tiny pieces.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone who’ll treat you right,” he offered finally. His hand shifted ever so likely, as though considering catching hers, but he finally placed it inside the pocket of his trousers and averted his eyes. “I . . . I’m sorry, by the way. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but I just thought it might’ve looked a little strange if I did.”

“Why so?” Sansa offered him a smile. She had mastered the art of smiling through her own pain over the previous months, so she hoped it came off as effortless as it usually did. “You’re a great boy, Theon. I really appreciate your company, and the fact that you worried about me. But I’m fine, I promise.”

Theon ran an awkward hand down the nape of his neck. “Just know that I’m here if you need anything, all right? You can always come hang out at the Gryffindor common room, even if you’re brothers aren’t around.”

The smile that appeared on Sansa’s face was a much more genuine one this time. She had always liked Theon — she had met him when she was nine and her brothers brought him over for a couple of weeks during the summer, and he had spent increasing periods of time with them over the course of the years. She knew he was a bit of a playboy — Robb and Jon never tiptoed around the fact that his favourite hobby was probably chasing all sorts of girls around the castle and sneaking with them into broom closets. But he had never acted that way around her or Arya, and had always treated them just like their older brothers did — they had spent days on end playing Quidditch together when Sansa was eleven or twelve, and he might not have been aware of all that she was going through right then, but she somehow felt that he _understood_ — and that was more than enough.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” And, in spite of having sworn that she wouldn’t let anyone see how she was feeling after what had happened with Joffrey, she wrapped her arms around Theon and hugged him tightly. “Thanks, Thee.”

She could sense that the boy was surprised by her gesture, but smiled when he hugged her in return.

“You’re welcome, Sans.” His hand halted on her back for a second, and Sansa couldn’t help but think that it felt nice to be touched in that sort of caring way by someone who wasn’t a member of her family. It made her feel _liked_ , which had become a rare feeling in her after what had happened with Joffrey and her friends the previous spring.

“All right, I suppose I should head upstairs and get some sleep,” she finally reckoned, pulling away from their embrace with a much more peaceful gesture. “See you around?”

“Sure thing. Call me up whenever you need someone to hang out with,” the boy winked an eye at her, and Sansa even felt like laughing at his antics for one fleeting second.

“That I will.” There was a half-smile on her face as she turned around. “See you, Thee.”

“See you, Sans.”

Looking back, one would have thought that was the very moment when Sansa felt a strange flutter in her stomach after saying goodbye to Theon Greyjoy. But the truth, deep down, was that she had been feeling it ever since she was nine years old.


	3. Bringing It Back To Basics

Arya would never admit it out loud, but her first days at school had been a little rough. She was quick to realize that most of her roommates were snobby and too stuck up for her taste, and she still hadn’t grown used to the idea of not seeing his parents every day. She would just wander around the castle, a little clueless and perhaps even feeling slightly scared when a wry-looking Slytherin crossed her path, but she marched on and soon found her way out by befriending one of her housemates, a chubby boy who had been nicknamed Hot Pie because of how he kept shoving them down his throat during the Welcoming Feast, and a Fifth Year who looked like a bit of a loner and took a liking to both First Years almost immediately. His name was Gendry Waters, and Arya soon found out that he had been brought up as a Muggle boy by his single mother until he found out that his biological father was none other than Robert Baratheon, Minister of Magic, who was now generously taking care of his education — probably out of guilt, but it wasn’t like Gendry gave it too much thought. The boy had always felt like the odd one out, and Arya soon found in him the best of friends and, most importantly, someone who would always be there for her, unconditionally and selflessly, for the rest of her life.

It wasn’t like she was aware of it just yet, though. For the time being, he was just her best friend and her favourite person, next to her siblings and parents.

“Stark!” There was a smile on Gendry’s face when the boy greeted her at the bottom of the stairs. He had grown up during the holidays, and he now began to look like the sixteen-year-old that he currently was — more broad-shouldered, slightly more tanned. His face had lost some of the baby fat that had clung to his cheeks until then, and even at age twelve Arya could notice that he looked a whole lot more handsome than he had the previous year. “How did the Welcoming Feast go?”

“T’was good,” Arya replied, as she tucked the red-and-gold tie under her cloak. “How did the summer go? You barely wrote back.”

“Oh, I was a little busy helping in the kitchens and fixing things with Professor Baelish,” Gendry explained. His mother had passed away during his second year at school, and his father had arranged for him to stay at Hogwarts all year, summer holidays included. “But you know, it was all right. Had the entire common room to myself, so I just slept over here most of the time.”

“That _does_ sound cool,” Arya agreed. A part of her wished that she had invited him over to Winterfell Manor for a few days, but she knew it would have seemed a little strange for a twelve-year-old to bring home a friend who was nearly four years older than her. But then again, Arya was nothing like the girls in her year, and his friendship with Gendry was therefore a rather uncommon one. “How did your O.W.L.’s go, by the way?”

“Ah, just fine I guess,” Gendry replied. “Did great at DADA, Charms, and Transfiguration, and just all right at Potions and Herbology. History of Magic and Astronomy were a complete failure, though.”

Arya laughed. “That does sound like you, Gen.” The boy did a half-smile, and her brow furrowed. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, “I’m just glad you feel like you’ve gotten to know me over the past few months.”

If anyone had pointed out in that very moment how Arya’s cheeks had turned a blotchy red, the girl would probably have had them jinxed and left hanging upside down from the Astronomy Tower.

“Yeah, well,” the girl shrugged. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we are,” Gendry reckoned. “It’s just that I’m not really, well, used to people knowing how I feel about things or . . . well, how I am, generally speaking. S’pose that’s what happens when you don’t really have a family.”

Arya gulped.

“I could be your family,” she offered meekly. Her tone was innocent, altruistic — she was only twelve years old, after all — but even then she knew that the sole idea of being a part of Gendry’s life forever made her stomach churn in excitement.

“Nah,” Gendry chuckled, which caught her offguard. “You wouldn’t be my family.” When her mouth opened in protest, he added, winking an eye at her, “You’d be m’lady.”

Her cheeks turned a bright red once again, but she grinned nevertheless.

“Me? A lady? Looks like I know you better than you know me,” she replied, shaking her head.

“All right, all right,” Gendry said defensively. There was a smile on his lips, which sort of amused her. “I just meant that you’d be more important than . . . I don’t know, Hot Pie or the Reeds.”

“Well, of course,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m your _best friend_.”

Gendry did a half smile and patted her shoulder as they walked into the Great Hall.

“That you are, missus. That you are.”

•••

To say that Bran Stark was enjoying his new life at Hogwarts would have been an understatement — because he was _loving_ every single moment of it.

He had spent his first night at school chatting with his roommates and getting to know older Ravenclaws who were happy to show them around the common room and the rest of their tower — contrary to what his older brothers had often told him about his House, they were all very welcoming and nice, at least to the curious First Years who approached them wondering where the bathroom was. He had breakfast with Jojen and Meera on his very first morning at school, and then met up with his roommate and Lyanna Mormont for their first Potions class, in which Professor Baelish explained to them what his class was all about and what they could expect to learn over the next five years of their lives. The man wasn’t exactly _nice_ to them — not in a conventional way, at least, but Bran appreciated his knowledge on the subject nevertheless, and even laughed a little when he said something about his students being shorter and shorter every year. The rest of his classes simply flew by — Transfiguration was a little scarier because of how Professor Cersei Lannister kept remarking how overwhelmingly strict she was when it came to grading their performance in class, whereas Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was taught by her brother Jaime, sounded fascinating to Bran’s curious ears. The Head of his House, Professor Tyrion Lannister — who also happened to be Cersei and Jaime’s younger brother — was in charge of their Charms class and taught them the very first spell that Bran would learn at Hogwarts, a snarky smile on his face when Bran was the first of his students to succeed at it and the only one who managed to do so the first time that he swished his wand in front of an inanimate object.

“Did you _seriously_ just say that you managed to perform a decent _Wingardium Leviosa_ only three minutes into the lesson?” Meera’s eyebrows rose when Bran told her and Jojen all about his first Charms lesson over dinner. “That’s . . . well, that’s really impressive. I think I failed at least ten times before I got it right. And we didn’t even get to it until our _fourth_ class — Professor Lannister just went on and on about magic and knowledge and spells and whatnot for the first week or so.”

“That’s because I’ve always been better at practical magic than you are,” joked Jojen, shaking his head. When his sister elbowed him hard on the ribs, he just winced and sighed, his eyes briefly meeting Bran’s, “But even I needed at least a couple of attempts before getting it right.”

Bran just shrugged, a tiny, proud smile visible on his lips. “I don’t know. It just . . . came naturally to me. I flicked my wand, said the words out loud, and the feather flew up a couple of feet in front of me. Professor Lannister said he was really impressed.”

“I can see why,” Meera said, placing a hand on her new friend’s shoulder. “I’ve always been told that your family tends to exceed at magic, but I bet none of your siblings managed to get a spell right _that_ fast.”

“I’m sure they did,” Bran’s cheeks looked only slightly flustered at that point. “Robb’s a great student — he wants to be an Auror, I think, and Jon and Sansa usually get really high grades too. Arya doesn’t really care about it that much, but she’s still really bright, you know.”

“Don’t mess with the Starks, Meers,” said Jojen, a half-smile — and only slightly cocky — smile on his face. “You know how close-knit they are.”

“I wasn’t messing with them!” The girl’s hands shoot up in a defensive gesture. “I was just saying that it looks like Bran’s going to be a very talented wizard, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t take it _that_ way,” Bran assured, and smiled when the two siblings started bickering again. His eyes briefly darted back to his three siblings at the Gryffindor table, and grinned when Arya stuck his tongue out at him and Robb waved at him happily. When he turned back to his friends, he added, “But yes, we’re close. I like my brothers and sisters very much.”

“I can see that much,” Meera smiled. “They look like nice people. Your big brother’s Head Boy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” There was a proud expression in Bran’s eyes. “He’s doing great so far, I think.”

“It’s sort of hard not to do a great job when Talisa’s helping you out,” chuckled Jojen, shaking his head. “You know, I spent a good deal of our First Year hanging out with her because she offered me some help with Transfiguration — which I’m terrible at, mind you. So I got to know her fairly well.”

“She looks nice,” Bran offered, a little cluelessly. He hadn’t seen much of her so far — after all, the Head Boy and Girl had a private dorm and spent most of their very limited spare time there, so he reckoned he would only catch a glimpse of her during one of the three daily meals or if he ever visited his brother’s dorm. He scratched his nose and asked, a curious edge to his voice, “D’you think she’d help me if I asked her to? Transfiguration seems a little scary.”

“Sure,” Meera said, shrugging her shoulders. “She’s really kind, honestly. Just go talk to her after lunch tomorrow and she’ll probably be more than happy to help you out. But I’m sure you’ll be fine, Bran — we’ve all felt a little lost when it comes to Transfiguration. It’s hardly an easy class, and Professor Lannister’s constant barking doesn’t help, either.”

“I’ve heard that she can turn into a lion whenever she pleases,” Jojen added, his eyebrows rising. “I think she’s an Animagus.”

“I wish _I_ was an Animagus,” Bran sighed. “That way it’d be a whole lot easier to understand what she’s saying half of the time.”

The Reeds laughed, which made Bran giggle, too. He liked them, and he liked school so far — the castle made him feel at home, and he had barely had any time to miss her parents and younger brother just yet. He surely would, eventually — he would get homesick and write to them, and they would immediately write back, and Bran knew that there would be days when he wished he were at home with them instead of buried under a pile of parchment and books at the library. But he also felt like he belonged there — not only at Hogwarts, but at that very table, with those very people that he was beginning to call his friends. They would get to know each other better, and he would eventually feel nearly as close to them as he felt to his real family. And of course, his siblings would always be there for him — Arya with her pranks and witty remarks, Sansa with her books and her broad knowledge on the constellations above them, Jon with his kind words and helpful hands, and Robb with his strong sense of justice and the natural protectiveness that comes with being the eldest child.

It would all be easy enough, he thought as he walked up to the Ravenclaw tower with Meera and Jojen, even when it wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so not much happened here.... i just wanted to set up the story a little more before plunging straight into the /plot/ - which shall be revealed in the following chapter i think?? i'm not 100% sure just yet but yeah! stay tuned!


	4. Saturday Sun

Robb Stark was only a month into his last year at Hogwarts when he realized that he was very much in love with Talisa Maegyr.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t always known he felt something for her, though. The girl’s big dark eyes and her perpetually curious expression had fascinated him ever since they were children, and the fact that he was now getting to spend nearly every single moment of his day-to-day life with her didn’t help much, either. He soon found out, over weekend breakfasts at their dorm and their private study sessions, that there was even more to her than what he had gotten to know over their first six years at school together — she had a little brother, she explained one morning while finishing up one of the many letters that she often sent home, who went to a small Muggle school in Brighton, where her family lived. She explained to him that being a witch was the best thing that could have happened to her, but that she also loved spending the summer holidays there, eating chocolate ice cream with her brother by the pier and dipping her feet into the cold water of the Channel, fantasizing about the continent that lay just a few miles in front of her. She loved Muggle history and science, and even explained to him a couple of basic notions that sounded completely alien to Robb’s Pureblood ears — and that was why he suddenly found himself mumbling over the Laws of Thermodynamics while reading through his Potions textbook, or repeating the names of all the planets and constellations that Talisa’s favourite Muggle scientists had discovered with the help of what the girl often referred to as  _ technology _ . He didn’t quite understand how it all worked, or the importance of all the discoveries that the girl told him about over the course of their first few weeks together, but there was something in the way she would ramble on about the Apollo missions and the latest Nobel Prize in Medicine that would make him listen to her like she was the only thing that mattered in the entire universe.

Because, in a way, she was.

“Morning, Stark.”

He did a half-grin when the girl ruffled his hair before walking up to the table, picking up a green apple before flashing a smile towards him. Their life together had become rutinary, scheduled around their patrolling shifts, their classes and their meetings, which had made Theon laugh and joke about how they already acted like a married couple when they hadn’t even kissed yet.

“Morning, Maegyr.” He put his Charms textbook down and observed her for a few seconds. She was still in her pyjamas and had her hair tied up in a bun that had gradually become undone over the night, resulting in various locks of black hair dangling out of it here and there. He should have grown accustomed to seeing her like that, but the truth was that he still marveled at how flawlessly beautiful she still looked to him when she had just woken up a few minutes ago.

“What’re you up to?” she asked, a more conversational tone to her voice. “Got any plans for today?”

Robb shrugged and shifted in his seat, trying not to look too dumbfounded. “I, uh, I suppose I’ll meet up with Jon and Theon later today. You?”

“Arianne, Ygritte and I were going to go for a walk in the afternoon, I think,” she said. “We don’t really get to hang out that much anymore, with me being stuck with you all day and Arianne chasing pretty much the entire male population of the castle around.”

“You know you can always just skip a shift or two and go meet up with them, don’t you?” he asked, one of his reddish eyebrows rising. When the girl laughed, his expression turned into a frown. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just . . . I’m fine with being stuck with you, I suppose.”

Ah, there it was again. That stupid smile that appeared on his lips whenever she said something that caught him offguard. Which had been happening a lot as of lately, if he were to be completely honest.

“Me too, Tal. Me too,” his eyes shifted back to his Charms textbook, but his heart leaped when he heard the girl’s soft laughter before munching on the apple yet again.

“Would you like to come?” she asked suddenly. When his eyes lifted up to her, he could have sworn that the girl’s cheeks had turned only slightly redder. “I mean, you and Theon and Jon. Ygritte and Jon really seem to get along, and Arianne — well, I’m sure she’ll enjoy the company.”

It took him a few seconds to reply, mainly because they had never really hung out with each other’s friends before, but also because his whole chest danced at the idea of spending an afternoon with her by the lake. “Sure, I’ll ask the lads over lunch. It’d be really fun, though — hanging out with Ygritte is always  _ very _ amusing.”

One of Talisa’s eyebrows rose in a rather teasing gesture. “You fancy her, Stark?”

“What.” He frowned, shaking his head quickly. “No! I don’t . . . I mean, she’s fun and we do get along fairly well, but I don’t like her . . . that way? No, I definitely don’t.” His brow furrowed yet again when a hearty laugh erupted from Talisa’s lips. “What?”

“I was just messing with you, Robb.” She tossed the remainder of her apple to the bin and then offered him one last smile. “I’m gonna go get changed and get a bit of my Herbology essay done before lunch, all right?”

The worst thing about the whole situation was that Robb’s vision was completely blurred by the idea of Talisa  _ getting changed _ . Coughing ever so lightly, he just nodded and mumbled something about seeing her later, burying his nose into his textbook yet again.

“Robb?” The girl turned around right before disappearing through the corridor.

His eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”

“The stubble looks good on you. Please don’t shave, will you?”

His heart leaped in his chest yet again, and he was quick to nod in agreement.

“Sure, Tal.”

The small smile that appeared on his lips was like a tiny window to the ocean of emotions that crashed and burned through his body until long after the girl entered her dormitory.

•••

If Jon were to be completely honest, he had never thought that he would end up spending an entire afternoon by the lake with his two best friends and three of the most popular girls in their Year. Because Jon never really hung out with other people aside from his siblings and Theon, and because the sole idea of spending more than a few minutes with Ygritte made his heart race in his chest and brought a goofy smile to his lips, which was quickly mocked by the girl sitting next to him. Talisa had invited his brother over for the afternoon, apparently, and of course Robb had happily obliged and brought his two closest friends over with him. It was obvious that he was more than glad to be spending nearly every single hour of his day with Talisa, and it amused Jon to see how his brother’s attitude changed whenever she was around — in spite of his Tully looks, he acted like a Stark, all honourable and chivalrous and interested in what the girl had to say. Their father would have felt proud if he had seen the way his eldest son orbited around the girl he was beginning to fall in love with, Jon thought, because he felt like that was the exact same thing that had happened when he and Catelyn met.

The six of them were sitting on a checkered blanket, with Arianne and Ygritte leaning against one of the thick trees that surrounded the lake as they sung ancient Celtic songs about wizards, witches, dragons and creatures of the North. Theon was lying next to him, his hands on the back of his head and his eyes closed, only interrupting the girls’ chants with one of his cheeky comments every now and then. Jon knew that he and Arianne had been involved the previous year — nothing serious, of course, because neither of them  _ did _ dating and everything had ended amiably after a couple of nights together in the Room of Requirement. He knew that his friend’s comments were blunt, but inoffensive — Arianne and Ygritte just shrugged him off by gently kicking the top of his head every now and then, but Jon still winced whenever Theon said something about Ygritte’s legs or how she had ‘a very fine arse’, as the boy had put it a few minutes earlier. Ygritte just laughed and told him to sod off, oblivious to the way Jon simply pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up and stare at the sky above them, suddenly feeling a little too awkward about being there with the three of them — almost like he didn’t belong, even when his brother had repeatedly told him that Ygritte liked him very much and that he should talk to her more often.

That was why he groaned when Talisa announced that she was going for a walk, and Robb quickly asked if she minded him joining her.  _ Of course _ he had to be left alone with Theon’s overly sexual remarks and the other two girls. He cast a pleading look towards his brother, who just shrugged his shoulders and jerked his thumb at Talisa, an only slightly apologetical look on his face. Jon sighed and nodded quietly, and Robb beamed at him before jogging up to Talisa, the two of them quickly engaging in a conversation on the fauna and flora of the Forbidden Forest that faded out as they walked away from them.

“You think those two have had sex already, Jon?” Theon had placed a hand on top of his eyes, and was currently flashing a cheeky smile at his friend.

Jon shrugged. “I don’t think so. Robb would’ve told us if they had, wouldn’t he?”

“Don’t think those two have so much as kissed yet,” Arianne chuckled. “Merlin knows I don’t get why, knowing how  _ smitten _ they are with each other.”

“Y’know the Starks — duty first, love second,” Ygritte said, placing a hand on her chest in a rather dramatic way. She then nodded towards Jon. “Take a look at this one, for instance. You think he’s ever been with a girl?”

“I . . . I’ve been with girls.” Jon replied, his cheeks only a little flustered.

“That girl that you dated for three days during Second Year doesn’t count, Jon,” snorted Theon, who winced when his friend slammed his hand against the back of his head. “Hey! I was just being honest.”

“So, if you haven’t been with girls . . . is it ‘cause you’re into boys?” A cheeky smile appeared on Arianne’s lips.

Jon’s cheeks had become a blotchy red at that point. “What? Merlin, no. I just . . . I've never really found the right person, that’s all.”

“Aw, look at him,” Theon said, a half-smile on her face. “He’s a  _ romantic _ .”

“Now, let him be,” Ygritte said, which made her friend’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Not everything revolves around sex, you sodding perverts.”

Arianne laughed, shaking her head. “All right, all right. Don’t get so  _ protective _ , Yg.”

Jon’s eyes darted towards the girl, expecting her cheeks to turn a bright red at her friend’s comment. Instead, she just punched Arianne’s shoulder and called her an arsehole before resuming her little chant on the southern dragons that had once flown over their country, with Arianne absentmindedly tapping her fingers against the trunk of the tree to the beat. Theon, on the other hand, flashed a half smile towards him and shrugged.

“ _ Girls _ , you know,” he whispered. “They can be magical sometimes.”

“I’ve gathered that much,” mumbled Jon, nodding toward the spot at the other side of the lake where Robb and Talisa now stood, a little too close for two people who were only supposed to be friends but not quite daring to erase the distance that hung between them just yet.

“We’re losing him, mate,” Theon sighed dramatically. “They’re gonna get together eventually, and then . . . boom, he’ll be gone forever.”

“What do you mean?” Jon’s brow furrowed. “You’ve been sleeping with girls since we were . . . what, fifteen? And yet you’re still here, hanging out with us on a Saturday afternoon because you’ve nothing better to do.”

“First of all,  _ ouch _ .” Theon sat up and stretched his arms before adding, “And second — there’s a difference. I’ve been with girls, sure, but I haven’t  _ been _ with them, you know.”

“I don’t really get the difference, honestly.”

“Oh, fuck’s sake,” Theon rubbed his hand against his forehead. “It was just . . . sex, you know? Fooled around for a bit, made out in a broom closet, then just forgot about them as soon as I bid them goodbye. But  _ this _ ? Robb acts like that girl is the goddamn sun, and she looks at him like there’s . . . I don’t know, bloody stars on his face. It’s sickening, and the fact that they haven’t so much as made out yet is beginning to annoy me.”

Jon nodded quietly at his friend’s words, but ultimately sighed. “Yeah, I suppose I get what you mean. But I don’t think that’ll necessarily drift him away from us — if anything, he'll stop looking like a lovesick puppy whenever the three of us get together.”

Theon just groaned and shook his head. “How can you be so  _ positive _ all the time, Stark.” Slumping back onto the grass, he glanced up to the two girls and added, in a louder tone, “Bet you two that they’ll be together by the Yuletide Ball!”

“Well, I bet  _ you _ they’ll be together by Halloween,” countered Arianne, which made Ygritte burst into laughter.

“That’s a deal, then,” Theon chuckled before placing his hands on the back of his head.

“What’s a deal?” Talisa asked as she took a seat next to her two friends, placing an arm around Ygritte’s shoulders and resting her head on top of hers.

“Oh, nothing,” Ygritte said, shaking her head. Jon couldn’t help but notice that a mischievous smile was playing on her lips when she eyed him. “We were just talking about . . . Potions, and stuff.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of it,” Talisa sighed, shaking her head. “I  _ hate _ Professor Baelish. He’s such a slob.”

“Is he, now?” Robb’s eyebrows rose as he took a seat next to Jon. “Perhaps we should tell Headmaster Arryn about it?”

“There’s nothing you two could do about it, honestly,” Ygritte grimaced. “Arianne and I once got a full month of detention because we snapped back at him for calling us ‘beauties’ in the middle of a class.”

“Oh, I remember that,” Theon chuckled. “He wasn’t wrong, though.” When the rest of the group glared at him, he just shrugged and shifted a little. “What? Merlin, I just wanted to pay you two a compliment . . .”

“You aren’t getting anywhere near my skirt, Greyjoy, if that’s what this is all about,” said Ygritte, a small chuckle escaping her lips at the expression on the boy’s face. “I’m sorry, mate — it’s just that you’re not exactly my type.”

“Oh, yeah?” Theon asked, an amused expression on his face. “What’s your type, then?”

Jon could have sworn his breath hitched at his throat when he noticed the brief glance that Ygritte flashed towards him before replying, “I don’t know. Haven’t really made up my mind yet, to be honest.”

“All right,” Talisa said, giving Ygritte's knee a gentle squeeze before standing up. “As fascinating as this topic may be, I think we’ve had enough for now. And I don't think our essays are going to get themselves written anytime soon, so we'd better get going before it gets dark."

“Ah, the Ravenclaw strikes again,” deadpanned Arianne, who only mildly complained when her friend rammed her elbow against her ribs. “All right, all right. Let’s get going.”

And with that, all six of them picked up their things and trotted back to the castle. Jon couldn’t help but laugh at the way Ygritte lurched herself towards Talisa and made her friend give her a piggyback ride back to the castle, and even smiled at the way Theon and Arianne exchanged mutual impressions on their latest flings. He and Robb walked behind them, his brother’s hands inside his uniform trousers and a soft smile playing on his lips as he observed the way Talisa would quip at Ygritte and even smack her on the shoulder every now and then — not unlike he and Jon did when they messed around.

“So,” Jon said finally. “You and Talisa . . . ?”

Robb chuckled and shook his head. “Nah, nothing’s happened, mate. I just really want to get this right, you know — I want to make sure she wants what I want, and . . . Merlin, I just feel so clueless around her. It’s stupid, really, but I almost feel like an entirely different person when I’m alone with her. Like a better version of myself, I suppose.”

Jon did a half-smile. “That’s good. It definitely looks like you two are getting along.”

“Yeah.” A feeble smile appeared on Robb’s lips. “It’s just — I don’t know, I've never felt this strongly about a girl, ever, and I just want to be her friend and make sure that she wants more than that before telling her. Don’t let Theon know I said that, though, because he would probably tease me about it for the rest of my life if he ever found out.”

“Don’t worry,” Jon said, squeezing his brother’s shoulder ever so gently. “He’ll never — ”

Jon's voice died out when a very familiar voice cried their names just as they entered the Great Hall.

“Jon! Robb!” Arya yelped as she ran up to her two older brothers. Her cheeks were flustered, and Jon could have sworn that she had just run downstairs all the way from the Gryffindor tower to find them. “Have you heard the news?”

Jon frowned and exchanged a concerned glance with his brother. The rest of the group had frozen behind them, a worried expression now visible on their faces, too.

“What is it, Arya?” he finally asked, placing a hand on his little sister's shoulder.

“Headmaster Arryn’s dead,” the girl said breathlessly. “And some people think he’s been murdered.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun!!!! and so the plot thickens. can't wait for you people to see what i've planned for our five little starks! :))


	5. The New Headmistress

Sansa couldn’t quite believe her ears when she heard what Podrick told her as they made their way to the Great Hall. The entirety of the student body and the school staff had been summoned there by Professor Cersei Lannister — Sansa had spent the day in the library up until then, buried under a pile of books that would hopefully help her get her History of Magic essay done. She had bumped into her only friend right after the librarian ushered her outside, and the boy had quickly attempted to fill her in on what had happened.

“Jon Arryn’s . . . dead?” she knew that his official title was ‘Headmaster Arryn’, but the news had immediately made her go back to the more intimate, familiar memories she had of him — Headmaster Arryn had been Robb’s godfather and their aunt Lysa’s husband, and she had grown up getting piggyback rides from him down the woods surrounding Winterfell Manor and visiting his castle at the Vale every other Christmas, so she did feel slightly entitled to using her uncle’s full name in such grave circumstances. “But — what happened? What’s going on?”

“Apparently Professor Lannister found him dead in his office,” Podrick explained, his cheeks flustered from having ran up from the Hufflepuff common room after Professor Mormont, the Head of their House, told them the news. “Everyone’s meeting up at the Great Hall so that they can explain what happened, I think.”

Sansa frowned, lowering her gaze. She had been struggling with showing her feelings in front of others as of lately, but the pain that grew in her chest suddenly became too unbearable for her. It wasn’t like she had been _that_ close to her uncle Jon, but she still felt as though every single little detail belonging to her childhood was being stripped away from her, without allowing her to protest or to ask why. She wanted to scream, to hit someone like her sister did whenever she was angry or even vaguely irritated; she wanted to be understood, and she felt as though the fire that was growing in her chest would never stop. It pained her to think of how her father would feel when he heard of his friend’s passing, or the way Robb’s expression would change whenever his godfather was mentioned. She didn’t _want_ to feel all the feelings that were storming up inside her, and yet she did.

And of course, being in the feeble state that she was right then, she _had_ to bump into Joffrey right before entering the Great Hall.

“Uh, oh,” he sneered, his eyebrows rising with a tantalizing expression. Messing with her had become his favourite hobby even before they broke up, and he was still extremely talented at being cruel to her whenever they were in the same room. “Someone’s dead, I think? Too much ale and pork, am I right?”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting towards her siblings. All three of them were standing together with Talisa and two Seventh Year girls that Sansa immediately recognized as two of Robb’s Quidditch teammates.

“What was that?” Joffrey sneered, his expression as vilesome as ever. “Can’t hear you over the _stench_ of that fat arse’s dead body. Hopefully my mother shall be appointed Headmistress after all that’s been going on here! The amount of incompetence was beginning to become a little unbearable, you know.”

“Leave her alone,” Podrick croaked beside her. Sansa sighed when Joffrey glared at him and the boy recoiled back to his place at the Hufflepuff table — she loved Podrick, but she also happened to know that he was scared _shitless_ of Professor Lannister’s older son and his chums, so she could hardly blame him for leaving her alone like that.

“Just — leave me alone, Joffrey,” she said thickly, trying to avert her eyes from his. “What’s the _point_ in you following me around and being so . . . bloody cruel all the time? Just let me _be_.”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting that a part of you will always be mine to keep.” Joffrey jeered, a rather daunting smile on his lips. “Unless you want me to tell everyone all about what . . . happened at my parents’ on Boxing Day last year.”

Sansa gritted her teeth. “I don’t _care_ . The only thing I’d ever feel remotely ashamed of is the fact that it happened with _you_.”

Joffrey’s expression quickly shifted to the usual sneer that gleamed in his eyes to a much more scornful one. “You little bitch — ”

“You know, Baratheon, it’d be absolutely brilliant if you minded your bloody language for once.”

Her chest leaped when she recognized the voice behind her. Theon Greyjoy, standing several inches taller than Joffrey, was looking down at the sixteen-year-old with a scathing expression on his face.

“What now?” Joffrey jeered back. “You gonna try and teach me manners? Mind your own damn business, Greyjoy.”

“Theon,” she mumbled as her brother’s friend’s hand clasped the wand that rested in his pocket. “Just — just go, all right? He isn’t worth it.”

“Like Hell he isn’t,” Theon said, his eyebrows rising. “I’m just gonna see you off and make sure that this little shit doesn’t try and get on your nerves again.”

“Oh, and what will you do if I _do_ get on her nerves again?” snorted Joffrey.

Theon tapped the end of his wand against his chin in a thoughtful manner and then shrugged. “Squeeze your cock back to the size it was when you were first born, I guess. Although that wouldn’t make much difference in comparison to its current length, would it?”

Sansa couldn’t help but smile when Joffrey’s ears turned a bright pink.

“Wait until my mother hears about this,” he huffed at Theon, who just snorted and smiled at him daringly. He then pointed his index finger at Sansa and growled, “I’m not done with you, you little b — ”

“Oi, Baratheon! Language!” And, with a swish of Theon’s wand, a firm bandage tied itself around Joffrey’s mouth, preventing the Slytherin from speaking. A few of the students around them laughed in approval, and even Sansa giggled ever so lightly in spite of the entire situation. Theon just glanced towards her and shrugged. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

Sansa nodded, and muttered before leaving Joffrey behind them, “Thanks, Thee.”

She almost felt as though the Gryffindor’s smile widened at that. “No problem, Sans. He _was_ being a prick, you know. You shouldn’t let him belittle you like that.”

“I know,” she mumbled, shrugging her shoulders. “He just . . . goes on, and on, and on. He seems to think that the fact that his father’s Minister of Magic makes him untouchable, or something like that.”

“We’ll have to teach him manners if he doesn’t shut up his little mouth, won’t we?” He laughed, and Sansa found herself laughing too. Which had been a rather strange thing in her over the past few months, if she were to be completely honest. “Just let me know if you ever need help again, all right?”

“I will,” Sansa nodded. She and Theon had never been _friends_ , at least not directly, but she was beginning to think that there _was_ someone else that she could rely on aside from her family and good old Podrick — and that was why she kissed his cheek ever so lightly, in a gesture that seemed to catch the seventeen-year-old entirely offguard. “Thanks again.”

“Uh . . . yeah, no problem.” His eyebrows rose, and Sansa couldn’t help but feel like he looked a little too dumbstruck for someone who had merely helped his best friend’s sister out of a spiky situation. “I’ve got to go now, I think. Someone’s gotta take care of Jon when Robb’s away on Head Boy duty.”

Sansa giggled, nodding her head. “All right. See you.”

The boy nodded, but hesitated for a few seconds before speaking again.

“Oh, and Sans?”

“What is it?”

“Did you _really_ shag bloody Joffrey Baratheon on Boxing Day?”

Her cheeks turned a bright red that nearly matched the colour of her hair. “Sod _off_ , Greyjoy.”

But the boy just winked at her, and instead of the guilty feeling that overcame her whenever someone discussed her own sexual life in front of her, she just stuck her tongue out at him and smiled, which had Theon laughing until well after he met up with his friends at the Gryffindor table.

•••

Arya had never liked Professor Cersei Lannister very much. She had known her ever since she was a little girl, because her husband was one of her father’s closest friends and their visits to Winterfell Manor, although more and more infrequent over the course of the years, had always meant a great deal to Arya’s family. Still, she disliked nearly everything about her — the way she sneered at the younger students, her blatant favouritism towards her Slytherin students, or the flagrant nepotism that she favoured her own children with. Her brothers were all right, she supposed — although she had never trusted Jaime Lannister very much, she admired Tyrion’s knowledge and the way he shared it with his students through his Charms classes — but she had never really trusted Cersei Lannister. Not even when her mother told her, a reproachful look in her eyes, that she should always be kind and welcoming to her father’s guests.

“How did you even find out about it?” Gendry whispered next to her, as the two of them stood at the Gryffindor table.

“Hot Pie just burst into the common room yelling about it,” she explained. “Bran, Jojen and Meera had come over for a game of Explosive Snap, and — well, I just thought I’d go find my brothers and let them know about it.”

“Oh.” Gendry nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good point.”

Arya’s eyes flashed back to Sansa at the Ravenclaw table. Her brow was creased and her eyes had fixed themselves on Cersei Lannister, so she immediately supposed that her sister had already heard of what had happened to Headmaster Arryn. Arya’s lips pursed in a rather thoughtful manner — she and Sansa had never really _gotten along_ , but she had been feeling a little worried about her ever since she found her crying alone in her room on a sunny August afternoon. Seeing her in such a vulnerable state made Arya realize that perhaps there had been a more nuanced aspect to her relationship with Joffrey than Sansa had allowed her family to see, and she still had to hold herself back whenever she bumped into her sister’s ex-boyfriend at school — she had never liked Joffrey Baratheon, but the fact that he had made her older sister cry made her absolutely _loathe_ him.

“Good afternoon,” said Cersei Lannister, her expression somewhat haughty at the way every single pair of eyes darted towards her as soon as she spoke up. “As some of you may already know, you’ve all been summoned here because something absolutely _horrid_ just happened at the very center of our institution. Our dear Headmaster Arryn has been found dead in his office,” a few of the more distracted students who hadn’t realized what was going on just yet muttered in surprise until Professor Lannister carried on with her speech, “and we’re assuming his passing is related to the various health issues that he had been struggling with for the past few years. His body has been taken to St Mungo’s, and the Minister of Magic is already there with the late Headmaster’s widow and his only son. A memorial will be held in the school grounds in a few weeks, of course — I think I speak for the entire school staff when I say I expect you all to be there, no matter what your obligations may be. And of course, we also know that the school shouldn’t be left unattended, even under the darkest of circumstances — and that’s why I shall become Headmistress during this transition period, until the school council designates a new, permanent one. Until then, Professor Baelish will become Head of the Slytherin House,” she nodded towards the Potions professor, who simply did an acknowledging smile and dismissed the Slytherins’ whoops with a swift movement of his hand. The rest of the Great Hall, however, remained dead silent. “That’s all for now — you shall be the first ones to know should there be any more news on the late Headmaster’s funeral and memorial. Thank you for your attention.”

Gendry and Arya exchanged concerned glances. Not because of how Professor Lannister had just appointed herself Headmistress — everyone at school knew that, being the Minister of Magic’s wife, her power had no match among the school staff — but because of how she had addressed the matter of their late Headmaster’s death.

“I’m not buying it,” Arya declared in a faint whisper as they exited the Great Hall with the rest of their House.

“What do you mean?” Gendry asked, his eyebrows rising ever so lightly as he looked back to make sure that Professor Jaime Lannister — head of their House — wasn’t walking behind them.

“It’s just — it’s weird that he’d just _die_ , isn’t it?” Arya replied, her brow creased. “I mean, he didn’t have any ‘health issues’ like Professor Lannister said — my father would have told us about it. He looked perfectly fine this morning at breakfast, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Yeah. It does sound a little fishy,” Gendry agreed, nodding quietly. “But . . . honestly, Arya, what are we to do about it? He’s dead, and it’s not like we can prove that Professor Lannister’s lying. People die out of nowhere, trust me — I’ve seen it happen.” Gendry’s lips pursed at the memory of his mother’s sudden death, but he simply stuck his hands in his uniform trousers and cast his eyes down to the ground.

Arya frowned and placed a gentle hand on her friend’s arm. “I — I’m sorry, Gen. It’s just . . . I don’t understand what’s going on. I’ve known uncle Jon for years, and he’s always been healthy — s’not like he couldn’t stop eating pulled pork and drinking beer for the life of him like uncle Robert does — ” her tone faltered at the grim expression on Gendry’s face at the mention of his father. The fact that he had barely gotten to know him at all and yet Arya seemed close enough to call him ‘uncle Robert’ must have pained him more than he would ever admit, she reflected quietly. “I just feel like we should find out what really happened, that’s all.”

Gendry sighed. “I don’t know, Arya. I _really_ don’t want to get into trouble. This school — it’s all I have, really. I don’t want to mess it up.”

Arya timidly pulled his hand out of his pocket, and squeezed it ever so lightly. “I understand. I’ll talk to my siblings and see what they think about it.”

“All right.” Gendry squeezed her hand in return before pulling away, a light blush setting on his cheeks as they walked into the Gryffindor common room. “I . . . I should go back to my Charms essay, I think.”

“Sure,” Arya said. When she spotted Jon sitting by the fire, a thoughtful expression on his face, she offered Gendry a small smile and shrugged her shoulders. “Well . . . I’ll see you around, all right?”

“Sure, m’lady.” Gendry smiled back, and winked at her before going upstairs.

Arya was still grinning when she poked Jon’s side as she took a seat next to him on the sofa.

“Hey!” Jon smiled. “What’s up, little one?”

“Nothing much,” she said, shrugging her shoulders as she looked around. “Where’s Robb and Theon?”

“Oh, Robb and Talisa had to meet up with the new Headmistress,” there was a frown on her brother’s brow as he spoke. “And Theon . . . well, who knows, really.”

“All right.” Arya’s lips pursed ever so lightly. “It’s just that . . . I’ve been meaning to ask you two something, precisely about our new ‘Headmistress’.”

Her brother’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What is it?”

“I . . .” Arya struggled to find the right words at first. She didn’t mean to outright accuse Cersei of having killed the Headmaster, but it seemed as though she was the only person in the entire castle who could have carried out such a vile scheme. “Isn’t it odd that Headmaster Arryn died all of a sudden, when he looked perfectly fine earlier today? He wasn’t sick — Father would have mentioned it when he came home over the holidays. He looked so . . . _well_.”

Jon pursed his lips, but ultimately nodded. “Yeah, Robb said something like that before leaving with Talisa,” he mumbled, scratching his chin in a thoughtful manner. “I don’t know. People do die out of nowhere, Arya, it’s important for you to know that — ”

“I _know_ people die out of nowhere,” Arya replied, perhaps a bit too harshly. “It just doesn’t seem likely, that’s all.”

“All right, all right,” Jon’s eyebrows rose at the firmness that spurted out of Arya’s words. “I see your point. But if he hasn’t died a natural death . . . I mean, who could have done this to him? And why? He wasn’t the most powerful man in the Wizarding world, you know — he might’ve been friends with Robert Baratheon, but he was just the school Headmaster. I just don’t get why anyone would want him dead.”

Arya opened her mouth and closed it again, her lips twitching thoughtfully. Her brother had a point — _why_ would anyone want to get rid of Headmaster Arryn?

“I don’t know,” she declared finally. “But I think we’re supposed to find out.”

“ _We_ ?” Jon nearly laughed at his sister’s words. “What are the two of us going to do against the school staff and the Lannisters, even if something _is_ going on and Headmaster Arryn was murdered after all?”

“I meant _we_ as in you, me, Robb, Sansa, and perhaps even Bran,” she countered. “The five of us, together.”

Jon chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Arya.” When his sister frowned, he ruffled her hair and half smiled when she scrunched her nose. “We’ll talk to them tomorrow, if it makes you feel better. Robb told me he wanted the five of us to meet for tea at his dorm anyway.”

“All right.” Arya sighed as she rested her head on her brother’s shoulder. “But you _do_ realize that there’s something odd about all this, don’t you?”

“I do,” Jon nodded, wrapping an arm around Arya. The two of them had been exceptionally close while growing up — they both loved their siblings equally, but there was something about their shared dark hair and the way they had always felt like the odd ones out in their family that had made them bond like nothing else could have. “But I just don’t think there’s anything we can do about it. If anything, we should write to Father and let him know what has happened — although I’m sure he’s already heard from Robert or one of his Ministry colleagues.”

Arya nodded lazily. “I suppose that’d be a good idea, too.” She pressed her eyes closed and just listened to Jon’s quiet humming for a few seconds, lost in the peace that she felt whenever her older brother was around. “Jon?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want you or Robb to leave Hogwarts at the end of the school year.”

Jon did a sad smile and pressed a kiss to his sister’s head.

“We’ll always be here, in a way,” he replied. “As long as the rest of you are still roaming around the castle, we’ll never really be gone. Just promise that you’ll write to me wherever I am, all right?”

Arya did a feeble smile and hugged Jon tightly. “That I will.”

And they both fell into a comfortable silence, humming and listening to the crackling fire in front of them, feeling as though, if only for a fleeting moment, all was well.


	6. Tea Time

Bran grinned in admiration as soon as he set foot inside the Head Students’ dorm, and nearly gushed when he saw the stacks of books that Talisa and Robb had began to pile up there over the course of their first month at school. The girl owned a very enviable collection of Muggle novels that Robb was beginning to read, whereas the boy owned plenty of books on Wizarding History, especially those concerning the two Wizarding Wars — which were just about his favourite topics to ramble on about. The views were also rather astonishing — a bright, vibrant light poured through the common room’s largest window, and Robb had explained to him once that Talisa loved taking a seat on the windowsill and just reading there for hours on end, with him occasionally joining her with a bowl full of cherries that he had gotten from the kitchens.

“Wow,” he breathed. “This is a  _ lot _ better than the Ravenclaw common room.”

“I can’t believe the two of you have all this space to yourselves,” Sansa said, looking equally awed at her brother’s lodgings.

“Well, yes,” Robb said, running a hand through his reddish curls in a rather self-conscious manner. “The perks of being in charge of the entire student body, I suppose.”

Bran did a proud smile upon hearing his eldest brother’s words. He had looked up to his siblings all his life, and he always took great pride in their general academic success, secretly hoping to be good enough to follow their footsteps one day.

“Where’s Jon and Arya, anyway?” Sansa said as she took a seat on the sofa. “And where’s Talisa? I thought she would be here.”

“She, er, had an essay due tomorrow, so she decided to go to the library with Ygritte so that we could meet up here,” Robb explained. Even Bran noticed the small smile that appeared on his lips upon mentioning the girl that he now lived with. “As for Jon and Arya — I’m not sure, to be honest. The Gryffindor tower isn’t  _ that _ far away from here.”

As if on cue, the three of them heard a loud argument right outside the door — which had been jinxed so that no one aside from Robb and Talisa could open it. The eighteen-year-old peered outside and found his two remaining siblings biting back at each other because of how the door had made Arya leap backwards when she attempted to open it manually — and had sent fiery red shots towards Jon when he pulled out his wand and tried a simple  _ Alohomora _ on it.

“Bloody  _ hell _ , Jon,” Arya protested as she stepped into the common room. “You could have killed me right there!”

“Oh, please  _ do _ excuse me,” retorted her brother, his black curls all over the place after the spell hit him square in the forehead. “I’ll try and get jinxed on my own the next bloody time.”

“Hello to you two, too,” chuckled Robb, shaking his head as he took his little sister’s cloak and hung it next to Bran’s and Sansa’s. “How come you’re so late, anyway?”

“I, er, sort of forgot and took a nap after lunch,” Arya explained, her cheeks slightly flustered. “I stayed up late yesterday playing Exploding Snap with Hot Pie and Gendry.”

“Doesn’t that boy have any friends in his own Year?” questioned Sansa. 

Arya frowned. “What do you care? He’s my friend, that’s what counts.”

“All right, all right,” Robb said, in a more conciliatory tone, and placed a hand on Arya’s shoulder. “Just take a seat on the sofa and sit still until tea’s ready, will you?”

Arya rolled her eyes, but ultimately nodded and slopped onto the seat next to Bran, who eyed her with an amused expression and tugged on one of her braids, which resulted in Arya slapping his hand and fuming about hating wearing her hair that long and how she wished she could cut it all off and look like a boy sometimes. When Sansa smirked, she just glared at her older sister and mumbled something about how complying to the rules of patriarchy was just the easy way out of a woman’s struggles.

“Whoever taught you that?” Jon chuckled as he took a seat next to her.

“Meera did,” Arya explained matter-of-factly. “Her mum’s a Muggle, so she and Jojen went to a Muggle school, and apparently there was something called  _ feminism _ that became very popular around the time they stopped attending there and began boarding here.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about that,” Robb said, a gentle smile on his face. “Talisa owns a lot of books on the subject — I don’t really get what it’s all about, but she definitely does take it seriously.”

“See?” Arya said, a triumphant look on her face as she glanced towards Sansa. “ _ Talisa _ takes it very seriously, so it must be important after all.”

“All right, I suppose it might be,” the girl acknowledged, shrugging her shoulders. “But that doesn’t mean we girls shouldn’t take pride in being feminine. Look, it’s great if you’d feel more comfortable looking like a tomboy, but — ”

“Oi, just cut it off, will you?” Jon sighed. “Both of you can wear your hair as long as you please — I’m sure Father will love you all the same, trust me. Can we just get on and have some tea and discuss what has brought us here in the first place?”

“You mean there’s some  _ reason _ behind us meeting today?” Bran asked, his brow furrowing. He had remained silent for most of his sisters’ argument, because he had never really given it much thought and he simply supposed that the length of their hair wasn’t all too relevant as long as they were comfortable with it. He looked up at his eldest brother, who was still standing and was now carrying the tray that one of the house elves had brought up to the common room with their tea and pastries. “What is it, Robb?”

The eldest Stark shared a glance with Jon.

“It was sort of Arya’s idea for us five to meet up today,” he explained as he placed all five tea cups on the small table in front of the sofa. He then took a bite off one of the butter biscuits before adding, “I’m not entirely sure I support this, though — ”

“Well, yes, that was my cue,” Arya interrupted, shushing her older brother by placing a hand on his mouth — and removing it right after realizing how itchy the stubble on his chin was. “Merlin, whenever did you let that stuff grow?” She sighed and then looked at Bran and Sansa, who shared equally puzzled expressions. “I — well, I just thought there was something fishy about the way Headmaster Arryn . . . well, uncle Jon died. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I s’pose.” Bran agreed, nodding his head in a thoughtful manner. “He seemed to be doing just fine, and then . . .”

“I did think there was something odd about it,” Sansa nodded. When Robb’s eyebrows rose in surprise, she just shrugged and lowered her gaze. “Well, I . . . Joffrey looked oddly  _ happy _ about it. I don’t think he’s ever been too keen on uncle Jon, but I don’t really get why his death would please him so much.”

“‘Cause he’s a bloody psychopath, that’s why,” grumbled Robb. When Arya chuckled in agreement, he just sighed and took a seat in front of Sansa. “That does sound strange, though — I mean, Joffrey’s always been one to express his thoughts out loud whenever he felt like it, but outright celebrating the fact that our Headmaster had just died? It does sound like a little too much, even for him.”

“Perhaps he’s in on it somehow?” Jon offered. “I don’t know — he  _ is _ a bit of a wanker, after all.”

“Being a wanker doesn’t make you a murderer,” Sansa replied, in a shushing tone that caught all four of her siblings offguard. She bit her lip and added, “I mean . . . I hate him more than any of you do, but I really don’t think he  _ did _ it — if uncle Jon  _ has _ been murdered after all. How could he? He has no access to the Headmaster’s office.”

“But his mother does,” countered Bran, in a quieter tone that didn’t quite match his siblings’ heated argument. When all four of them turned their heads towards him, he just shrugged and crossed his arms. “I don’t know. She’s strange, really — scary, even. I’m not saying she’s behind it, but . . . if there’s anyone who could have anything against Headmaster Arryn, that was her.”

Robb’s brow furrowed. “I hope you lot realize that we’re making really serious accusations here,” he said. “I — look, I don’t know what happened to uncle Jon, or if we’ll ever find out whether he died a natural death or was murdered or poisoned by someone, but . . . we can’t just go around throwing accusations at our current Headmistress just because we don’t happen to like her.” Arya’s mouth opened in protest, but her older brother shrugged the comment off and placed a hand on her mouth just like she had a minute earlier. “Listen, if uncle Jon  _ did _ get murdered, someone will find out eventually. I don’t know, perhaps some Healer at St Mungo’s will realize that there’s something wrong with his corpse, or something. Or perhaps Father will figure it all out on his own. But we’re not to step out of the line until there’s real evidence that can prove our point, all right?” Sansa and Jon nodded immediately, but Arya and Bran seemed to look a little more hesitant about it, which made their older brother cast one of his dead serious glares towards them. “ _ All right _ ?”

Bran was the first one to surrender to the eldest Stark’s authoritative tone. “All right. But why shouldn’t we investigate in the meantime?”

“Investigating could get you into trouble,” Jon said, although it seemed as though he might have agreed with his little brother deep down. “We don’t want you to get punished, Bran, that’s all.”

“Look, Bran,” Robb said, sighing. “ _ If _ uncle Jon was murdered by Headmistress Lannister — and I’m not saying he wasn’t, because we all know what the Lannisters are capable of — it’s not our place to get our noses into it, because we would simply get ourselves in trouble. And I  _ don’t _ want you four to get in trouble, that’s all. Father trusts me to take care of you while we’re at school, and I simply won’t allow it.”

“But you won’t be able to protect us all our lives!” Arya protested. “What if we want to find out what happened? I don’t trust her — I don’t trust any of them, and now they’ve practically taken over the school . . .”

“Arya, Robb’s right,” Sansa said. Her tone was usually a lot more condescending when addressing her younger sister, but she even placed a hand on Arya’s knee as she spoke. “We shouldn’t get in trouble. He and Talisa have a lot on their hands right now, and us meddling with the Lannisters would only make it worse. Just . . . try to shrug it off for now, will you?”

Arya frowned and lowered her gaze. “I don’t know, Sansa.” Her sister squeezed her knee, and she ultimately shrugged before taking a sip from her tea and scrunching her nose, because she had never really liked it that much. “All right. I won’t  _ meddle with the Lannisters _ , I promise.”

“Good girl.” Robb did a sad smile and pressed a kiss to the top of his sister’s head before casting a thankful glance towards Sansa. “Let’s just have some tea and relax for a bit, all right? Father and Mother would like that.”

“It’ll be just like when we were little and spent every single day together at home,” Bran said, a meek smile on his face.

“Yes,” nodded Sansa before taking a sip from her tea cup. “I’ve missed you all so much, honestly.”

“Not me,” Bran countered, poking his older sister’s side. “We’ve hung out nearly every day since I got here.”

“That’s great,” Robb nodded, a kind smile on his face as he ruffled his little brother’s brownish hair. “It’s great that you and Sansa are in the same House, isn’t it? None of us is really alone, after all — Arya and Jon have got each other, and I’m just sort of up here all day, so . . .”

“Up here with Talisa, you mean,” Sansa said in a sing-song voice. She even laughed when her older brother’s cheeks became only slightly flustered. “Merlin, you really do like her, don’t you?”

“Well . . . yeah, I suppose I do,” Robb said, nodding his head. When Bran and Arya giggled in unison, he just rolled his eyes and did a playful smile. “Anyway — what about  _ you _ , San? Do I need to go kick Joffrey’s arse again or is he finally behaving around you?”

“Oh, Theon took care of him the other day,” Sansa replied, smiling fondly at the memory of the way her brother’s friend had embarrassed her ex-boyfriend in front of his friends. When Robb frowned in confusion, she just shrugged her shoulders and added in a rather casual manner, “What? You two aren’t his only two friends, you know.”

“We’re his only two friends that he hasn’t slept with,” Jon replied, looking equally surprised at the idea of their younger sister deliberately hanging out with Theon. “I think you should steer clear of him, Sansa.”

“What, like I can’t have a male friend who doesn’t want to have sex with me?” she scoffed, her brow only slightly creased. When her two brothers shared a concerned glance, she just rolled her eyes and took a bite off one of the chocolate biscuits. “You two can be really daft sometimes, you know.”

“That I agree on,” Arya nodded with a giggle.

“All right, whatever you say,” Jon sighed, shaking his head, and then patted Bran’s shoulder. “I just hope  _ you _ aren’t involved in anything odd.”

Bran scrunched his nose in confusion as he curled into a ball next to Arya. “What are you talking about? I’ve really nice friends, you know.”

“All right, all right,” Robb laughed, shaking his head. “I think it’s much too early to discuss these two’s love lives, don’t you think? Let’s just move on to something else.”

“Like Sansa being in love with Theon?” Bran suggested, a mischievous smile on his face.

“ _ Bran _ !” his sister replied sharply, her cheeks becoming slightly flustered when her two older siblings burst into laughter. “It’s not funny, you know. There’s nothing between us — we’re just  _ friends _ .”

“It better stay that way,” Robb nodded — half-jokingly, half-seriously. “If he ever happens to try anything odd with you, I’ll cut his nuts off.”

Sansa just rolled her eyes, but smiled when her brother nudged her playfully. He had supported her all through what had happened with Joffrey the previous year, and deep down she  _ did _ know that she could count on him being there for her, unconditionally and selflessly.

“You know what,” Bran said finally, a small smile on his lips. “I’m glad I’m getting to share a full year at school with the lot of you. By the time Rickon comes over I’ll be a Fourth Year, and Arya’ll be a Fifth Year, and the rest of you will be gone already — how lame will that be?”

“Poor Rickon,” laughed Robb, shaking his head. “But yes, I was thinking of that the other day. The fact that Jon and I have gotten to see your first steps at school, and that we’ve managed to hang out together every now and then — it  _ is _ really cool, to be honest.”

“Aw, don’t get all soft on us, Robb,” joked Sansa, ruffling her brother’s reddish curls, and laughing when he scrunched his nose in response just like he had always done when they were little. “I can’t believe you two are graduating this year. Hogwarts isn’t going to be the same without you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about us,” Jon said dismissively, a half-smile on his face. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“And you know — we can always send that little shite Joffrey a howler or two if he ever misbehaves around you,” Robb added, the same mischievous smile that had appeared on Bran’s lips now visible on his.

“Shut up about it already, will you?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and laughing in that same familiar tone, which made Bran feel as though they were home and not a single second had gone by since the day his two eldest siblings had found out that they would be boarding at Hogwarts for the following seven years. They were all grown up now, sure, but the essence was still there — the spark that, deep down, would always bind them together as the close-knit family that they were.

Sansa was the first one to leave, apologetically announcing that she still had an essay due in the following day that she needed to polish and share with poor Podrick, who didn’t really know what to do with his. Jon quickly followed suit, allegedly mumbling something about meeting up with Theon and Ygritte to finish revising for their Potions exam later that week. The two younger Starks stayed behind with Robb until Talisa came back from the library, taking a seat on the sofa with a dramatic sigh and protesting about how Professor Lannister could be horrid sometimes. However, she also greeted Robb’s younger siblings with the kindest of smiles, congratulating Bran for having been sorted into Ravenclaw and letting Arya know that she admired the younger girl’s duelling skills very much. Robb listened to every word she said, looking clearly besotted, which made Arya smirk and realize that perhaps it’d be best if they left their brother and his fellow Head Girl alone for a bit.

“Let’s go get ready for dinner, Bran,” she said, patting her brother on the shoulder.

“But I wanna stay a little longer,” pouted Bran, who was clearly far more oblivious to the feelings that Arya had seen in their brother’s eyes.

“Nah, come on, let’s go,” she said, pulling at his hand and forcing him on his feet. The boy grumbled, but ultimately obliged, and they both beamed bright smiles at both Robb and Talisa and even hugged them goodbye before leaving their common room.

“Take care, will you?” Robb said, ruffling their hair. “I’ll see you later.”

Arya rolled her eyes and offered her brother one last toothy grin before leaving the Head Students’ Dorm. “All right, Robb.” She closed the door behind her, then frowned when she saw the look in Bran’s eyes. “What?”

“Why did we have to leave, all of a sudden?” he asked. “I bet Talisa thought we were just acting rude or something.”

“I think they wanted some alone time, that’s all,” Arya explained matter-of-factly.

“Why would they?” Bran questioned, a more curious tone now visible in his voice. “Are they going to . . .  _ kiss _ ?”

Arya laughed. “They’re not even dating, Bran, don’t be ridiculous. It’s just that Robb fancies her  _ so much _ that I thought we’d leave them alone for a bit before dinner.”

Bran’s mouth turned into a small ‘o’, and for a few minutes he simply followed his sister down the staircase, both now on their way to the Great Hall.

“So they like each other,” he finally said, more to himself than to Arya. “But they’re not  _ dating _ yet, so they can’t kiss, right?”

Arya shrugged. “I dunno. S’not like I’ve ever cared for that stuff, anyway — you’d better ask Sansa, she’s had a boyfriend and everything.”

Bran nodded quietly. “All right, I will.” He then pursed his lips and added, in a more thoughtful tone, “And what about uncle Jon? Are you  _ really _ going to listen to what Robb and Jon said?”

“Are you joking?” Arya huffed, shaking her head. “I’m not letting that pass. Look, our siblings and my friends might not want to get involved in it — but we still have to investigate and figure out what happened, all right? You’re great at climbing, and I’m good at . . . well, spells, I suppose. We’ll figure something out.”

A mischievous smile was now playing on Bran’s lips. “All right then. Let’s find out what happened.”

Arya did an equally mysterious smile, and then placed her arm around her brother’s shoulders. They’d make a good team in spite of their differences, he thought as they entered the Great Hall. Because, after all, nobody knew him half as well as Arya did.


	7. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

It was the first Quidditch match of the school year, and the weather had decided to behave itself for once: the sun shone bright above the school fields, and everyone buzzed in anticipation for the sportive competition that was to come. Gryffindor versus Slytherin was always one of the most gripping matches in the entire Quidditch season, and that was why the red-and-gold-suited players had gathered at the changing rooms two hours before the match.

“All right, so what’s our strategy?” asked Dickon Tarly, rubbing his hands together. The fourteen-year-old was everything his older brother was not — daring, cheeky, hot-headed and one of the most popular boys in his Year. “Can’t wait to see the look on their faces when we snatch the Quidditch Cup this year.”

“Now, I wouldn’t take that for granted, Tarly,” Robb replied in a rather firm tone. Being Captain made him feel as though he needed to irradiate enough optimism for his teammates to be confident, but not so much that they might begin to belittle their opponents when the matches came. “Slytherin’s got a fairly good team this year. We can do this, obviously, but we need a good strategy.”

“They’ve a pretty good Seeker, or so I’ve heard — some wee lass who’s only twelve or thirteen,” offered Ygritte, her Beater bat resting on her lap as she fiddled with her gloves. “But I’m sure Trystane here will beat her arse in a jiffy.”

“Hear, hear,” laughed Arianne and Quentyn next to their younger brother, whose thick black curls bobbed in excitement as he shook his head. All three Martell children were Gryffindors and had therefore ended up playing Quidditch in the same team — Arianne had tried out as a Chaser along with Robb when they were both in their Second Year, and Quentyn, who was two years younger, had become their Keeper when the previous one graduated three years ago. Trystane, who was only thirteen at the moment, had become the star of the team in no time — he had practically won the Quidditch Cup all by himself the previous year, and Robb considered him one of the most valuable assets to their team.

“All right, so — we’re supposed to knock their Seeker off as soon as we can, aren’t we?” continued Ygritte, a smirk visible on her face. “Daario and I can take care of that.”

“Sure thing,” the boy agreed with a nod. Daario Naharis was the seventh and last member of the Quidditch team that year — he was a surprisingly quiet young man, and even though Robb and him had shared a dorm since their first night at Hogwarts, he had never really gotten to know him until he showed up to Quidditch tryouts the previous year. As it turned out, he was an excellent Beater and a world-class comedian, but very few people aside from his Sixth Year girlfriend, Daenerys Targaryen, had managed to crack past his brooding, mysterious shell.

“All right, I think we’re good to go,” Robb announced, nodding his head. “Just relax and get your head in the game — our Housemates and the rest of the school will be here in an hour or so, and we’d better make sure we’re at our fullest when that time comes.”

The entire team nodded in unison and cheered their usual victory cry before standing up — some of them headed off to the showers, others towards the pitch or the broom closet where their things were kept. Robb sighed, rubbed his fingers against his temples and did what he always did before a match — walking outside and taking in a breath before fully immersing himself in the hectic wonderland that the Gryffindor changing room became in the moments prior to a game.

“Penny for your thoughts, Captain?”

His eyebrows rose when he recognized the voice that he had gotten to know so well over the past two months. He had woken up at dawn like he usually did on Quidditch mornings, so they hadn’t seen each other before he left for the field with the rest of the team after a very quick breakfast — they would usually have late breakfasts together in their common room on the weekends, and he had secretly found himself missing the way they would usually chat about their friends or their duties as Talisa spread strawberry jam on her toast or he dipped a biscuit in his tea, both laughing and relaxing after a long week.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, an amused smile on his face.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Talisa shrugged, her expression as cryptically fascinating as it always was to Robb. “I just wanted to wish you luck.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” he admitted, nodding. “Arianne and Ygritte are inside with Trystane and Quentyn — ”

“I’ll talk to them after the match,” she nodded, discreetly interrupting him. To be fair, Robb _did_ tend to babble more than he should whenever she was around. “I . . . well, I actually came here to wish _you_ luck. I know this means a lot to you, so I wanted to let you know that I’ll be cheering from the stands.” There was a playful edge to her voice, Robb noticed.

“I thought you weren’t that keen on Quidditch,” he countered, a half-smile on his lips.

“And I’m not, honestly,” she confessed, looking equally amused. “But I _do_ like the people involved in it, so I thought I might as well enjoy it for a bit today and see what the fuss is all about.”

Robb smiled. He liked the way they subtly danced around each other — both very much aware of the fact that they liked each other more than anyone else in the castle, but still not quite daring to break the comfortable aura that had begun to surround between them over the first few weeks of their Seventh Year.

“I’m flattered,” he finally said, a smirk visible on his face. “And I’m sure it’ll all be fine as long as you’re cheering for us. Oh, and if Ygritte manages to knock that Baratheon girl off her broom before she catches the snitch.”

Talisa scoffed. “ _Please_ , we’re talking about Ygritte here — she’s just about the best Beater this school has ever known.”

“Fair point there,” Robb laughed, nodding. Merlin, she really _was_ the most beautiful girl he had ever met. “I . . . it’s great you came over, though — I’ll try and say hello if I spot you in the crowd.”

“I don’t think you will,” she joked, shaking her head. “You lot always get so caught up during your matches — but it’s all right, I promise. I’ll be cheering for you.”

“Thank you, Tal.” 

His expression shifted to a more concerned one when he heard a few sharp yells coming from the Gryffindor changing room, immediately recognizing Ygritte’s voice and what sounded like a very intimidated Dickon Tarly trying to bite back at her for something she had said. He just sighed and shook his head quietly. “That’s my cue, I think,” he cast a timid smile towards Talisa, and added, “Will I see you after the match?”

“Yeah, you most definitely will,” she said, a grin forming on her lips. Before Robb could say anything else, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek — or, more precisely, to the corner of his lips. “Good luck, young wolf.”

And with that, she turned on her heels and walked back to the stands, leaving a very dumbfounded Robb Stark smiling like a fool and wishing his teammates had behaved themselves for a few minutes longer.

•••

Jon would have never admitted it in front of his friends, but he had never been all too fond of Quidditch. He wasn’t great at flying, and he hated the idea of people hitting each other with bludgers and chasing a little golden thing for the sake of pitting all four Houses against each other — he couldn’t really see the point of it, or why it might matter altogether, but he usually kept these ideas to himself, simply because he knew how much it all meant to Robb and Ygritte. Even Theon, who wasn’t a part of their House’s Quidditch team, claimed to love Quidditch weekends more than the ones in which they were allowed to go to Hogsmeade, and that was _definitely_ saying something if one kept in mind that Hogsmeade weekends were the ones in which the boy took his dates over to The Three Broomsticks and downed one Butterbeer after another until they were both a little too drunk and ended up snogging in the loo. He simply assumed that everyone but him loved the sport, and that he was just the odd one out.

That was why it caught him by surprise when his little sister groaned before taking another spoonful from her porridge, her expression still sleepy and her eyes demanding a couple more hours of sleep.

“I wouldn’t even go to the game today if it weren’t for Robb,” she sighed. “I mean, what’s the point? It’s just about the dullest sport ever — why doesn’t everyone gather around and watch me and Hot Pie play some Wizarding Chess, for that matter? I just don’t _get it_.”

Jon’s eyebrows rose, but he still smiled at the idea of the entire school being half as mesmerized as they were during a Quidditch match while watching a game of chess between his little sister and her friend.

“I don’t know, Arya,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not that into it, either, but Robb’s captain of the team, so . . .”

“Yeah, I know,” Arya sighed. “I just don’t care for it, that’s all.”

Jon tapped his chin in a thoughtful manner and then poked her nose with one of the more rectangular butter biscuits. The girl scrunched her nose, but observed him attentively nevertheless.

“Tell you what,” he said, a smile on his lips. “We’ll suffer through it together, all right? I think Theon and Sansa will be there, too, but we could always just stick together and silently complain about everyone and everything until some twat decides to catch that bloody Snitch.”

“That does sound like a plan,” giggled Arya, nodding. “Will your friend Sam be there?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Jon clicked his tongue. Sam was his closest friend after Robb, but they hadn’t been able to hang out that much as of lately — he had recently started dating a fellow Hufflepuff, Gilly, and spent most of his spare time either at the library or with her. “I do wish he would, though — I haven’t had a proper conversation with him in ages.”

“You could always just skip it,” Arya offered. “I’m sure Robb won’t notice as long as Talisa’s there.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Jon shrugged. “But you know, I really do wanna be there. Ygritte and Arianne are also in the team, and — ”

“Say no more, brother,” Arya said, feigning a tragic tone as she placed a hand on his chest. “ _Ygritte_ is going to be there.”

Jon’s left eyebrow perched up at that, his cheeks turning a very light crimson tone that matched the colour of his tie. “Whatever do you mean, Arya Stark?”

The girl just did a mischievous smile and shrugged her shoulders before finishing her porridge.

“I don’t know, Jon Stark — you tell me.”

The seventeen-year-old just laughed, shaking his head. “What a little devil you are.”

They left for the Quidditch pitch right after Jon downed what was left of his coffee, the two of them carrying the Gryffindor flags that Quentyn Martell had been handing out at the common room the previous evening. Jon loved hanging out with his youngest sister — he liked Sansa, and Merlin knew he enjoyed being with Theon and Robb, but Arya got him like very few people did in spite of the age difference between them. She was exceptionally smart, and a quick learner like himself — but, most importantly, they had both always felt like the odd ones out, which sort of tied them together like nothing else could have.

“So, how’s your Second Year been treating you so far?” He placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder as they approached the Quidditch pitch and blended into the crowd, perhaps a little too overwhelmed by the amount of people that was now flooding into the school’s biggest sports arena.

“S’alright, I suppose,” the girl shrugged, but grinned when someone offered them red and gold face paint and nodded — in spite of not being all too fond of Quidditch, she still enjoyed messing about just as much as everyone else did. She drew two thick red lines along her cheeks, then proceeded to do the exact same thing with the golden paint. She then held it up to Jon, “You want some?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he laughed, squatting down for his sister to reach his face and paint the red-and-gold lines on his cheeks. “Just don’t try anything funny, will you?”

“It’s harder on your cheeks now that you’ve grown a beard — it’s all scratchy and weird,” she complained, pursing her lips as she tried her best at drawing two firm lines on her brother’s cheeks just like she had on hers a minute earlier.

Jon laughed. “It’s _hardly_ a beard, Arya.” When the twelve-year-old patted his cheeks and did a triumphant smile, he just shook his head and did a half-smile before standing up again. “Thank you, little one.”

But the girl had already glanced up and smiled in admiration when she saw that the Gryffindor team had already entered the pitch — Lyanna Mormont, their young commentator, was cheering their names one by one as they marched towards Professor Tarth, all seven of them looking equally prepared for the game that was to come. The Slytherins walked in only a few minutes later, and the two captains shook hands in front of their professor-turned-referee and positioned themselves on top of their brooms before the Quaffle was thrown up, signaling the beginning of the game.

“I still can’t believe we’re here.” Arya laughed, shaking her head as she observed how every single member of the Gryffindor team bolted upwards with their brooms, already too busy chasing the Quaffle around to focus on anything else. She whooped when Arianne caught it and passed it on to Robb, and even booed when the Slytherin Keeper stopped them from scoring ten points for Gryffindor.

Jon chuckled, nodding his head. “Yeah, well, this is just about as fun as it gets.” He even clapped when Dickon Tarly scored ten points for their House, and whooped enthusiastically when Ygritte knocked one of the Slytherin Chasers unconscious by hitting him square in the forehead with the Bludger. The girl glanced towards the stands for the briefest of seconds, and Jon almost felt as though the smile that appeared on her lips when their eyes met made his insides melt — even more so when the girl winked at him before resuming the match.

Merlin, that girl really _was_ something.

“Ygritte’s really cool, you know,” Arya said next to him in a thoughtful tone. “You should date her before someone else does.”

Jon’s cheeks flustered at his little sister’s words. “Whatever are you talking about, you little rascal?” When the girl opened her mouth in protest, the boy just scooped her up in his arms and placed his little sister on his shoulders, not unlike he did when she was a toddler and asked him to play Aurors on hot summer afternoons. Arya just giggled and waved at Robb, who seemed all too focused on the game to notice that his two less Quidditch-inclined siblings were there, cheering for him. They whooped together when their brother scored another ten points for Gryffindor, and booed when Joffrey stole the Quaffle from him and zigzagged across the pitch before scoring ten points for Slytherin. The Seekers were nowhere to be seen, though — Arya knew Myrcella Baratheon from a couple of classes that they had shared with the Slytherins the previous year, but she had never really liked her because of the animosity she felt towards her older brother. She knew it wasn’t exactly fair to judge someone based on who their relatives were — but there was something about the girl’s long golden locks and the gelid blue of her eyes that reminded her of both her brother and her mother, and she somehow knew that she simply wouldn’t have been able to stand being around her for an extended period of time.

“Hope they’re doing all right,” Jon mumbled thoughtfully.

“Trystane’s _really_ good, or so I’ve heard.” Arya offered, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m sure he’ll manage.”

“Yeah, but isn’t that Baratheon girl like, really talented too? Robb said something about her being the fastest Seeker at school since . . . Harry Potter, I think?” Jon scratched his chin. He wasn’t all that keen on Quidditch, but everyone knew who Harry Potter was and that he had been one of the school’s most prominent Seekers.

“Well, I don’t know,” Arya shrugged. “Let’s just hope Trystane ends up being a teensy little bit better than her.”

Jon nodded thoughtfully. The match simply went on in front of them as it normally would — Gryffindor and Slytherin kept scoring points through their Chasers, and the Gryffindor Beaters did an excellent job at knocking the Slytherin Keeper unconscious right before Robb scored their hundredth point. Jon noticed how his brother looked up at the sky after celebrating — as though wondering where on Earth the Snitch was, and why it hadn’t been spotted by anyone on either teams yet.

And so it happened. A golden gleam of light dashed through the pitch, and everyone around Jon and Arya fell silent for a second. Both teams observed the tiny object and how a black-haired, tanned boy in a red-and-gold Quidditch uniform dashed past them as he followed the Snitch. The blond-haired girl in the green-and-silver Slytherin uniform was right behind him — her hair was in a bun, and the look in her gray-blue eyes undoubtedly did justice to the Lannister side of her family, Jon thought with a smirk.

“And so it begins!” Lyanna announced cheerfully. “Trystane Martell is right behind the Snitch — but it looks like Myrcella might _snatch_ it away from him! Get that?” When someone booed next to her, the girl just frowned and shook her head. “Anyway — Myrcella’s taken the lead! She’s approaching the Snitch! Oh, where the _hell_ did it go?”

Jon nearly laughed when he heard how Professor Mormont, a close relative of the girl’s, reproached her language from the distance. His eyes then darted towards Trystane and Myrcella — the two of them were still chasing the Snitch around, and their teams had resumed the match while glancing back to their Seekers every now and then. Everyone in the Gryffindor stands cheered whenever Trystane managed to get only slightly closer to the Snitch, whereas the Slytherin stands in front of them did the same thing whenever Myrcella outsped him. The match had become increasingly interesting, Jon noted, and he secretly found himself crossing his fingers and wishing Trystane the best of luck. His eyes darted back to Ygritte and Robb, who appeared to discuss something as they momentarily flew by each other — at that point of the match, there was little they could do other than hope for the best. The Seekers had flown too far up for the Beaters to follow them, and everyone seemed to hold their breath for a moment when the two Seekers halted mid-flight, their brooms stopping completely and the two of them apparently motionless. However, the crowd on the Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers as soon as Trystane Martell flew back to the pitch, a golden, winged ball visible in his hand — Myrcella flew back right behind him, looking only slightly pained by the fact that she had just lost her first Quidditch match but also — and most surprisingly — smiling in acknowledgement of her rival’s prominent skills.

“Mar-tell! Mar-tell!” cheered a group of Third Year girls beside Jon and Arya. When the girl rolled her eyes, Jon just laughed and ruffled her hair.

“We did it! Get ready, ‘cause this means we’re celebrating tonight,” he said, grinning. “I bet Robb’s gonna be thrilled about it.”

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” asked Arya, a half-smile on her face as she rubbed her hand against her smudged cheeks. “I mean, I still don’t get the hype, but . . . I’m glad they won.”

Jon smiled. “Yeah, I s’pose.” He ruffled his sister’s hair and grinned when he saw how the entire Gryffindor team had gathered for a group hug after Trystane descended to the ground. The Slytherins, looking only slightly sore, had already recoiled back to their changing rooms.

He also smiled when he and Arya went downstairs to congratulate them and found out that Sansa and Bran were already there, admiring Robb’s Captain badge and telling him how proud they were. Arya leaped straight into her older brother’s arms and hugged his neck tightly, and Jon grinned when he saw the look in Robb’s face when he realized that Talisa was waiting to congratulate them, too. The girl was currently giving her two best friends a very tight hug, and only when she let go of them did Jon realize that Ygritte, all sweaty and tired from beating the Bludger around the Quidditch pitch, looked even more beautiful than she usually did.

The thought made his cheeks turn a bright red, and he was almost certain that the fact didn’t pass unnoticed to Ygritte. The girl patted Arianne’s shoulder and jogged up to him, a wide grin on her face as she wiped some sweat off her forehead.

“Hey, Stark!” She beamed. He loved how she was all glee and joy after a Quidditch match, especially — but not exclusively — when they had won. “Saw you earlier at the stands. Did you enjoy the match? I thought you didn’t do Quidditch.”

“And I don’t,” Jon agreed, nodding his head. There was a half-smile on his lips. “But you and Robb _do_ , so I figured I’d come by and enjoy it for a bit.”

“Good.” The girl punched his chest playfully. The adrenaline that came with the match tended to make Ygritte act like she’d had a Butterbeer or two, which had always amused Jon. “I’ve never really understood why you didn’t join the team back in the day. You’re strong —  _bloody_ strong, I’d say — and you’d make a good Chaser. Perhaps even a Beater!”

Jon scratched his cheek, a feeble smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought I was fit for it, honestly. I’m sort of terrible at team playing.”

“Ah, so was I before this lot adopted me,” she chuckled. Then, in a gesture that surprised Jon like nothing else could have, she enveloped him in a hug — a warm, sweaty one, but a hug nevertheless. “I’m glad you came, Jon. See you around at the common room?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jon nodded, his cheeks now a bright red. “See you around.”

Ygritte beamed again, and he smiled in response, feeling as though his feet were an inch above the ground as he walked back to his siblings, who were still celebrating the team’s victory.


	8. Potions and Staircases

Sansa would have never admitted it to her family, but Professor Baelish’s classes tended to make her feel vulnerable, exposed, and even a little harassed from time to time.

She knew that the teacher had been fond of her ever since she first stepped into the castle, but his fixation had become more and more flagrant over the course of the years, as Sansa slowly stopped being a girl and awkwardly took her first steps towards womanhood. She knew that he had been one of his mother’s dearest friends growing up — always mistrusted by her father and his older brother that none of her siblings got to meet, Brandon — and she knew that they still sent letters back and forth every now and then, but she somehow felt as though the man’s affections towards her mother had always surpassed a mere, friendly caring for her, and had become some sort of hyperfixation that, eventually, had passed over to her upon the impossibility of fulfilling his desires with Catelyn. Sansa had always liked the way she and Robb resembled their mother the most out of all their siblings — she came from a distinguished Pureblood family in Sussex, the Tullys, and having grown up in misty Scotland Sansa ached for a house somewhere in the deep south, where the days were bluer and the skies clearer, and her mother’s House had always reminded her of that. But the sole idea that her reddish hair or her grey eyes may have attracted her old Professor’s attentions like her mother’s had when they were young revolted her to no end.

“Excellent job, Miss Stark,” he congratulated her one day, the squeeze on her shoulder a bit too familiar for her liking. “Keep up with the good work.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she said curtly, acknowledging his words with a light nod. 

When Podrick grimaced next to her, Professor Baelish slapped him on the back of his head with a thick Potions textbook.

“That fellow’s just  _ creepy _ ,” Podrick winced, rubbing the back of his head. “It always looks like he’s on to something. You know, I’ve heard he  _ pays _ some of his students to have them spy other teachers for him.”

“Come on, Pod, we’re not in the middle of some medieval intrigue,” scoffed Sansa as she stirred the dense yellow brew inside her cauldron. “I don’t think he’s  _ that _ bad. He’s just . . . a little touchy, I suppose?” 

He was, she thought immediately. He  _ was _ touchy, and he  _ was _ that bad. But she didn’t want to let her friend know of all the times she had stayed up late, unable to sleep because of how genuinely frightened she felt about the way Professor Baelish would subtly  _ touch _ her when no-one else was looking. He had never groped her like Joffrey had right until they broke up — she would have never allowed him to — but she still thought he overstepped whenever his hand rested on her shoulder for way too long, or when he placed his hand on top of hers and looked straight into her eyes, as though searching for something that Sansa couldn’t quite grasp yet. She simply felt genuinely uncomfortable whenever he was around, and wished that she could talk about it with someone without being dismissed as too sensitive or over-dramatic after what had happened with Joffrey. After all, she  _ had _ consented to what had happened with him, or at least that was what most people seemed to think — why wouldn’t other people think she  _ was _ consenting to Professor Baelish’s subtle gestures and ambiguous smiles?

“Sansa, are you all right?”

She looked up to her friend and realized what her face must have looked like at the thought of Professor Baelish’s attitude towards her. Tense lips, watery eyes — they had sort of become her trademark over the past few months, no matter how hard she tried to keep her wits about her.

“Yes, Pod, I’m fine.” She took her wand from the desk and motioned it towards a thick purple mushroom that she was supposed to slice into very small pieces before adding it to the brew, biting the inside of her cheek as she reminded herself to get a grip and stop wallowing in her own misery, and nearly had to choke back a sob when her friend’s hand fell on her shoulder.

“Merlin, sorry,” the boy placed his hand back in his pocket, visibly confused by his friend’s attitude, but tried to smile at her in a comforting manner anyway. “Whatever it is, just let go of it for now, all right? Don’t let that bloody Littlefinger get to you.”

Sansa nearly smiled at that before rubbing her left eye with her knuckles. She knew that some people had nicknamed their teacher that way when he was a student at Hogwarts, although she had never really understood why.

“All right,” she said. She took her friend’s hand and squeezed it ever so lightly. “Thanks, Pod.”

The boy smiled. “No problem!”

And with that, they both fell into a comfortable silence that, Merlin be blessed, lasted for the rest of the class. Podrick had to leave as soon as Professor Baelish dismissed them because of some meeting with Professor Mormont, so Sansa bid goodbye to him with a kind smile and stayed behind, cleaning up the mess that had resulted from them trying to accomplish the task that their Professor had set for that class. She whisked her wand at the stains on the table and gracefully cast a spell on the different spatulas so that they would go back to their original place on the shelf, almost smiling at the sight of them perfectly aligned next to each other.

“Quite impressive, Miss Stark.”

Her brow creased when she realized that Professor Baelish was standing next to her, a playful smile on his lips and his hands resting against his back like they usually did. His expression was almost neutral, and yet she quickly detected something strange in the way his lips twitched, almost as though he was struggling to keep something at bay whenever she was around.

“Thank you.” Her tone was curt, and her eyes clearly avoided his as she spoke.

“You know, you look just like your mother when she was your age,” he added, a fond smile on his lips. Almost  _ too _ fond, Sansa thought for a second. “She was one of the brightest witches in the castle, and exceptionally beautiful, too. Just like you. Your little sister reminds me of . . . well, your father’s side of the family, but you and Robb are your mother’s spitting image.”

“That’s good, I suppose.” Her gaze still refused to meet his as she fumbled for her backpack, her blue-and-bronze tie suddenly too tight around her neck and her skirt too short for her liking. She even held back her breath when her Professor reached for her shoulder and squeezed it, not unlike he had done in the past — but there was something chillier, graver about it now. It was almost like Professor Baelish genuinely  _ thought _ that she was her own mother; that somewhere deep inside of him something had woken up at the sight of a fifteen-year-old who resembled the woman that he had been in love with ever since he was a child.

She pulled away swiftly, rubbing her elbow with an uncomfortable expression on her face, and she almost felt startled when Professor Baelish chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, Sansa,” he said, one of his odd smiles settling on his face. “I’m on  _ your _ side. You’ll realize that eventually.”

She didn’t quite understand what her Professor meant by that, but she just shrugged and ducked her head. “Thanks.”

She nearly felt a chill running down her spine when she saw the smile that had settled on Baelish’s lips. “My pleasure, Sansa.”

She rushed out of the Potions classroom before he could open his mouth again, and held back a sob until she thought he wouldn’t hear her, curling up at the top of the staircase and burying her face in her knees. Sansa had never understood why every single face-to-face interaction that she had with him left her so vulnerable, so shredded to the tiniest pieces — it wasn’t like he had ever physically approached her in an inappropriate way, but the way he spoke or the way his eyes gleamed whenever they met hers left her feeling exposed, naked, just as vulnerable as she did back when she was with Joffrey.

She hated men, she resolved right then. Or at least she hated all those men who had strutted around her and toyed with her feelings and expectations ever since she stopped being a little girl.

“Sans?”

_ Bloody hell _ . She rubbed her eyes, rubbed her fist against her snotty nose, and then turned around to look at the seventeen-year-old standing behind her.

“Hey, Theon,” she said feebly. Her cheeks must have been a blotchy red, she realized, but she also found herself not really caring what she looked like after what had happened earlier.

“Is . . . is everything all right?” he asked. The look on his face was almost endearing to her, and she felt a light leap in her chest when he took a seat next to her. “I was supposed to meet Robb here for Potions class, but I think he’s still fooling around with Jon and Ygritte and Arianne and of course,  _ Talisa _ .” There was a spiteful edge to Theon’s words, which undoubtedly amused her.

“You lot have been hanging out with them lately, haven’t you?” She observed, not unkindly. “They’re nice girls. I think Jon fancies Ygritte, though.”

“Oh, you bet he does,” Theon chuckled. “Those two are absolutely  _ smitten _ . Your brothers, I mean.”

“So . . . chances are you might end up with Arianne too, right?” Her eyebrows rose ever so lightly. It wasn’t like she disliked the eldest Martell girl — in fact, she even admired her a little, being so open about her sexuality and ideas in a Wizarding world that still clung to its old values every now and then — but the sole idea of Theon dating her made her insides churn in a rather inevitable way.

“Me and Arianne?” he laughed, shaking his head. “No bloody way. I mean, she’s  _ really _ pretty, and I like her well enough, but I — no, we’d never have a long-term thing.”

Sansa found herself smiling to herself. “Oh. Well, as long as you remain friends.”

“Yeah, we’re good friends now that our respective best friends are pretty much all over each other,” he chuckled, and snorted when the girl scrunched her nose in disgust. “What? It’s true. You should hang out with them sometime — It’s bloody unbearable, let me tell you.”

“Come on, cut them some slack,” she giggled before rubbing her eyes yet again. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s not like they’d ever stop hanging out with you, no matter how smitten they are with those girls.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Theon replied thoughtfully, and it saddened her to think that he could even consider the possibility of being left out by his two best friends in spite of having been inseparable ever since they first met. He then squeezed her shoulder ever so lightly — the same gesture that Professor Baelish had done a little earlier, but with an entirely different significance. “Is everything alright with you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, nodding ever so lightly. And she wasn’t lying — Theon had somehow mastered the ability of calming her whenever he was around, which was something that very few people aside from her family could manage. “I — I just don’t really get along with Professor Baelish, that’s all.”

“That bloody pervert,” snorted Theon. “We were talking about him just the other day. He’s so — entitled, and also . . . cruel, in a way? I don’t know. I hate his bloody guts, so let me know if he ever acts all slobby around you.”

Sansa did a meek smile. Not because she hadn’t expected Theon to agree with her, but because of how he seemed so willing to actively defend her. “Thanks. But it’s fine, really — I don’t really feel like talking about it right now, so.”

“All right.” He nodded quietly, then tapped his chin before adding, “So what are you doing for Hogsmeade weekend? Got a date already?”

Sansa chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s hard to get one when most of your Year thinks you’re a slag. I don’t really mind, though — I think I’ll just stay in and work on my O.W.L.’s.”

“ _ What _ .” Theon feigned an exaggeratedly high tone, along with a gasp. “Sansa — nobody in their right bloody mind skips a Hogsmeade trip to study!” When the girl opened her mouth in protest, he quickly added, “You know what?  _ I’ll _ be your Hogsmeade date. We can go to Zonko’s and Honeydukes and stroll around the village for a bit — it’ll be fun, I promise.”

Sansa’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Are you really asking me on a date?”

“Only as friends,” Theon said quickly, almost as though he deemed it necessary to clarify it in case Robb was listening behind them — which only made the whole situation even more amusing than it already was. “I meant it when I said I wanted to hang out with you, and Robb and Jon are probably gonna go on fancy dates and ditch our usual plan, so . . . yeah, I’m up for a Butterbeer or two if you are.”

Sansa almost grinned at that, but took a few seconds before replying, “Yeah, that does sound like a nice plan.” 

Her heart almost skipped a beat when she saw the wholehearted grin on Theon’s face, and couldn’t help but think of how different it was to the smile that she had seen on Professor Baelish’s lips only a few minutes later. The boy then proceeded to ramble about his upcoming N.E.W.T.’s and how he was in total denial about leaving school the following summer, and Sansa found herself listening both attentively and heartily, as though nothing had happened earlier that morning. Theon always made her feel that way — safe, comforted, at peace.

“Hey, what’re you two doing here?”

Sansa looked up to find her brother’s reddish curls hovering over them, a quizzical expression on his face. Talisa was standing next to him, a small smile playing on her lips — the two girls had known each other for years, but their interactions had never been mediated by Sansa’s older brother and Talisa’s . . . well, whatever on Earth he was to her, the girl thought to herself as she stood up and hugged her brother.

“Hi!” she said, almost avoiding his question. “I stayed behind after Potions, and I bumped into Theon on my way upstairs, so we were just catching up while you two got here.” She knew that Jon had ditched Potions after barely passing it in his N.E.W.T. exam, and she supposed that Arianne and Ygritte didn’t take it anymore, either. She then flashed a kind smile towards Talisa and added, “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Sansa,” the girl replied brightly. “How’s school? How’re your O.W.L.’s coming along?”

“Just fine, I suppose,” she replied, which was Sansa’s way of saying that she expected no less than an ‘E’ for most of her classes at the end of the Year. She then offered both of them a kind smile. “Good luck with your N.E.W.T.’s to you too.”

“Thanks, ginger hair,” Robb replied, using the nickname that he had — only slightly lamely — given her when they were both children. She narrowed her eyes at him, and the boy just laughed before patting Theon on the shoulder. “Let’s go, shall we?”

“Sure,” Theon said, nodding lightly. He flashed one last smile towards Sansa before picking up his backpack. “See you around, Sans.”

“See you around, Thee.” Sansa almost smiled when she saw the way her brother’s brow had creased at their use of nicknames with each other, and simply gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before waving goodbye to the three of them.

When the three Seventh Years were on their own, Robb flashed a wary look towards his best friend.

“I very much hope you’re not trying to sleep with her,” he scowled, his reddish eyebrows still creased in a warning gesture. “Because I’d hate to have to cut your cock off if you did.”

Theon snorted quietly, trying not to think of the slight churn that his stomach did at the sole idea of sleeping with Sansa Stark.  _ Get a bloody grip, Greyjoy _ .

“I would  _ never _ ,” he assured him, shaking his head. “I just happen to like her better than you, you bloody sod.”

Talisa shook her head next to them as she entered the Potions classroom. “You boys can be so  _ thick _ sometimes.” She then took a seat next to her Potions partner, a Slytherin girl called Margaery Tyrell, and said nothing more to the two boys behind her.

Robb and Theon simply shared a confused glance, and then followed her inside.


End file.
